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house-of-kolchek · 1 year

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Ghosts Behind The Falls (18+)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

SUPRISE EVERYONE ITS A GHOST FIC

Everyone say thank you to @kawaiiwitch224 for getting me hooked onto this son of a bitch and inspiring FOUR THOUSAND WORDS of smut. I love you. Now back to your regularly unscheduled programming.

WARNINGS: This is literally just smut. There's like zero plot. Enjoy a very naked Ghost talking dirty to you in a cave.

Word Count: 4k

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It was supposed to be an easy mission. A quick drug bust - taking out the leader of one of the heavy-hitting cartels. The plan was solid, with a clear entry and exit plan, and intel on each and every soul that would be in the building. It was simple and covert, easily attainable with two agents.

So, how you became the target, you’d never know.

It had all happened so fast - one second you were sweeping through a freshly cleared room, keeping your senses tuned for the target, the one from the pictures you’d spent hours studying.

And the next you were turning tail and fucking running.

“When did the entire fucking cartel decide to show at the door?!” You shrieked, skirting sideways to dodge a stray bullet in your path.

“Just fuckin’ run!” A deep voice called from behind you, followed by a spray of gunfire towards your attacker. Ghost’s hand wrapped around your bicep, guiding you to the door and kicking you off in a sprint.

You cursed, stumbling over a few steps before shooting towards the tree line. Ghost was hot on your heels, grunting curses of his own under his breath. The thundering shouts of the cartel echoed behind you, no doubt giving chase as you ran with your tail between your legs. You aimed for the trees, taking solace in their protection.

Until of course, the ground decided to drop off.

“Hang on hang on hang on!” You shrieked, digging your feet in and skidding to a stop. Your balance threw you off, and one leg was sent flying over the cliff edge, your arms flailing for any sort of purchase.

Just before your stomach could officially drop, Ghost’s strong hand found your forearm, tugging you away from the ledge and into his side. You gasped, stumbling for a moment as you found a death grip on his vest.

“Shit,” he muttered, leaning over to survey the water below. “We’re gonna have to jump.”

“What! No!” you yelped, tightening your grip on him. “I can’t!”

“Wait you- what?”

“I can’t jump from this height!”

“Sweetheart, you haven’t got much choice,” he hissed, glancing back towards the growing shouts and gunshots. You stiffened, creeping away from the edge.

“I’m scared of heights,” you all but whispered. Your fingers flexed, hovering over the pistol tucked in your belt. Ghost gave you an incredulous look, seemingly baffled that you would rather stand and fight an obviously losing battle. He was right of course - you stood no chance - but that rational part of your brain had long since left the premises.

The shouts grew louder, the outlines of your attackers growing into focus. A stray bullet struck the ground a few feet away, and for the first time in a long while, you jumped at the sound.

It was at that moment Ghost decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Ah for the love of- hold on,” he growled, holstering his gun. Your breath left you again as his arms found your waist, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Wait shit what are you- RILEY!” You shrieked, digging your nails into the sides of his vest as he leapt off the cliff edge. Your scream was muffled as he braced the back of your head, burying your face into his armoured chest. His other arm tightened around your waist as cold air swept past you.

And then, like a sharp jolt to your system, you hit the water. After a short moment, his arms loosened, his hand keeping hold on yours to guide you back to the surface.

You coughed, sucking in a large breath of air as you broke from the water. Blinking, you glanced up, towards the cliff you’d been standing on mere seconds ago.

“GHOST!” you hollered, muffled behind the large, gloved hand that slapped over your mouth.

“Scream at me later, yeah?” he hissed, kicking through the water until the two of you were nearly pressed against the rocks. His voice was low as he muttered next to your ear. “If they think we’re dead after that fall, let’s keep it that way.”

Your face grew warm, your breath leaving you from the combination of his arm falling to tighten around your waist, and the echoing shouts of others above.

“There.” He nodded towards a towering waterfall, a small corridor just peeking out from the side. “We can hold up there while I call for exfil.”

Finally releasing your waist, he held a finger towards the mouth of his mask, before dipping his head under the water and swimming towards the falls. With a heavy sigh, and a slight tingle between your legs, you followed suit, diving below the water as you swam towards the cover.

The waterfall was roaring, audible even below the surface of the water. As you broke for another breath, you startled at the spray. Blinking the drops from your eyes, you made brief contact with Ghost, paddling to meet him at the edge of the small corridor.

Heaving yourself back onto solid ground, you coughed, wiping the spray of water from your lips. Ghost wasn’t far behind you, flicking on his flashlight to survey the space. He hummed his approval, barely heard over the water as he stepped further into the expansive cave that stretched behind the falls.

It was dark, musty and cold. But it was safe, and that was all that mattered. Combing a hand through your dripping hair, you followed the Lieutenant into the cave, dropping to a seat on a rock farther back. Ghost remained on his feet, glancing around the space once more.

“Should do for now,” he hummed.

“Yeah. It’s good,” you commented with a shrug. “At least there’s no more cliffs for you to throw me over.”

“Hey. You weren’t gonna jump and-” he sucked in a breath, only to choke on some of the water that soaked through his mask.

“Jesus Chri- you’re gonna waterboard yourself!”

You were met with a sharp exhale, and a spray of water from the mask where his mouth would be.

“I’ll be fine,” he commented, his eyes darting sideways to ignore your pointed look. The two of you were silent for a moment, Ghost muffling a few lingering coughs behind his hand.

“and I was gonna jump. Eventually,” you hissed. His gaze found yours again, cutting straight through the wall you were struggling to keep up.

“Not before gettin’ shot.”

“Well that seems more like a me problem than a you problem.”

“Would you rather I’d left you to get filled with bullets?”

Your mouth fell open and closed a few times as you struggled to find a quick response. You heard the barely-there rumble of a chuckle from the man, as he stepped back towards the cave entrance.

“S’what I thought,” he quipped. He was right, and you both knew it. His actions had saved your life, as much as you hated to admit it. You heaved a long sigh, the thread holding up your pride finally snapping.

“Thank you,” you uttered, causing Ghost to stutter in his steps. His head turned to the side, flashing a short stripe of white from the skull shaped plate across his face. With a short clear of his throat, he nodded.

“Right. Gonna call for exfil.”

—

By the time he returned, not even ten minutes later, the cold had begun to seep through your skin. In the damp space, you were still dripping, your clothes beginning to feel like ice.

Of course, the breeze and constant spray from the waterfall didn’t help either.

“You alright there?” Ghost asked, unable to keep the humour hidden from his voice. You shivered, raising a brow in his direction.

“Peachy. What’s the plan?”

Ghost chuckled, low and husky. If you hadn’t been fucking freezing, you might have noticed the slight heat behind it.

“ETA for exfil’s forty five minutes. We’re staying put till then,” he muttered, stepping close enough that his armor brushed against your upper arm. You shuddered, instinctively leaning further into the warmth you craved.

“Great,” you hummed. “Forty five minutes to fucking freeze to death.” Ghost sighed, though there was no malice behind it. His gloved hand found your shoulder, prompting you to tilt your head to face him.

“Take off your clothes.”

“I’m sorry- What?” You blanched, your cheeks growing even more flushed.

“What, conserving body heat and all that,” he justified, reaching to unclip the buckles of his vest. You fell into silence, forcing all the inappropriate thoughts to flee from your mind. Though, as you found yourself mirroring his actions, you couldn’t find the will to tear your gaze away from his hands working at the layers of his clothing, and each flash of skin he exposed.

It was crazy. Like something out of a wet dream you may have had more than once. And it was happening. Like right in front of you happening.

Your pants fell in a pile, the last article of your clothing save for your undergarments. Dipping your head to hide your blush, you didn’t even have the time to appreciate him before his hands - his bare hands - found your hips, pulling you flush against his chest.

You nearly gasped at the feeling of his skin, instantly warming your own. It was… effective, in more ways than one, as your cheek pressed into his chest.

“Better?” He asked, and you could hear the smirk behind his mask. Unable to form the words, you nodded, acutely aware of the rumble in his chest as he chuckled.

It was a side you hadn’t seen from the Lieutenant before - so openly kind and almost soft. His hands rubbed your arms a few times before falling loosely across your lower back. Your chest flared with warmth as he sucked in a barely audible breath.

Each brush of his skin sent shocks racing up your spine, to the point where you almost felt too warm. You leaned back - just slightly - turning to meet his. Very. Bare. Chest.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Um- I mean,” you babbled, slowly slipping from his arms. It didn’t help of course, if only the full sight of him clad in nothing but a mask and boxers only fanned the flames in your core. Your face flushed as you choked on every word trying to escape your throat. “I mean just like-“

You sighed. Might as well be fuckin’ out with it.

“What fucking adonis carved you out?”

Ghost was silent for a long moment. It would have been comical, watching him flounder for words if you weren’t stuck in the exact same position. You couldn’t place it, the new, sudden shift in his demeanor, until he started taking long strides towards you.

“Wait what are you doing-” you were cut off as his arms found your waist again, pulling you even closer than before. Your hands flew to either side of his chest, and you nearly gasped at the half hard pressure against your hips.

“You really think that?” he hummed, letting one hand brush up and down your spine, hovering dangerously close to the clasp of your bra. With a complete lack of words on your tongue, you nodded, fighting the urge to dig your nails into his skin.

“Well then. I might have an idea on how we can keep… warm.” You nearly keened from the growl in his tone, his voice growing even huskier as his hands fell back to squeeze at your hips.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, surprised at how quickly you were falling apart. The man had barely touched you and you were on the verge of snapping. As if he’d heard your thoughts, Ghost chuckled, low and husky, clearly enjoying the way you stroked his ego.

Without another word, he had you walking backwards until your shoulders hit the damp stone wall. You yelped at the sharpness of the cold stone, curling your hips further into his and accidentally grinding against him. The clipped groan he let out had you seeing stars, your arousal only fueled by the deep baritone of his voice.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Doll,” he husked, brushing his fingers along the skin of your stomach. Your head fell back against the stones, your mouth falling open to let out hot breaths as his other hand slid down to grip the back of your thigh. Hoisting it over his hip, you gasped at the sudden rush of air over your clothed core. Through your panties, Ghost slid one finger in a stripe across your core, brushing with delicious friction against your clit.

And you whined.

“Ghost-”

“Simon,” he cut you off. Finding your eyes through the mask, you studied the intensity of his gaze, almost feeling shy under its heat.

“Simon,” you breathed, and he blinked, unable to suppress the slight shudder in his shoulders as you used his name. His real name.

“Now that’s better.”

His head fell against the stone, his chin brushing against your shoulder. With another swipe of his finger across your panties, he pulled another clipped whine from the back of your throat. Letting his finger drag, he moved to circle over your clit through the fabric, increasing the pressure and forcing the friction across your nerves to amplify. You dug into his shoulder, panting a short breath as shocks of pleasure traveled up your spine.

“Simon, that’s-” you shot out another exhale. “That’s so good.” At your praise, his pace quickened, and he added another finger to the mix. There was a pressure against the skin of your shoulder, and you barely processed the outline of his lips through the rough fabric of his mask, pressing kisses against your collarbone.

“Oh, yeah?” he teased, biting you through his mask. You took a sharp breath. “I know how to make it even better.”

Oh how did you end up here. Stuck in a cave with your wildly attractive colleague practically naked and grinding against your hip. Muttering the filthiest things in your ears. Hooking his thumb to slide his mask up to his nose.

Wait, what?

“Simon?”

You were met with his shining grin, and the beautiful sight of his fair skin, all the way up from his chin to the bottom of his nose. His lips looked absolutely delicious. Full and sporting the perfect shade of pink. As you squinted, you were just able to make out a scar that travelled to the corner of his lip.

And that was all you were able to catch before his lips were on yours.

His kiss was deep and passionate, chasing after your lips as if he’d been craving them for years. His hands were completely forgotten, moving to simply squeeze the sides of your hips. You kissed him back just as eager, sighing at the taste of his lips. In a daring move, you swept your tongue across his lower lip, squeaking as his tongue tangled with yours.

He was barely able to catch one breath before he was kissing you again, falling out of the spell enough to slide his hands up the sides of your waist to your ribcage. As his tongue met yours once again, he found the clasp of your bra, struggling with it for less than a second before the garment was sliding off your shoulders. He wasted no time in finding your breasts, his calloused palms catching against your nipples and drawing a high pitched moan from your throat.

Your lips broke from his in a messy groan as you arched into his chest. His eyes fluttered shut, his bottom lip pinching between his teeth at the feel of your skin. One hand drew to the back of your neck, his pinky finger curling under your jaw to tilt your head back. You shivered at the graze of his teeth against your jawline, drawing down the column of your throat, where he left a pink bite mark against your skin.

“Oh, you like that?” he growled, his gaze fluttering up to your face. Breathless, you only nodded, feeling his smile against your skin. “You like when I leave my mark on you, eh?” You nodded again, and his teeth clamped down, just below your collarbone.

Simon soothed the mark, massaging your skin with his tongue and his lips until a dark bruise formed. Your hands flew to the back of his neck, your hips jumping against his as he brought his kisses lower, his breath hovering right over your breasts. With a soft, pleased sigh, he brought his lips down to your nipple, teasing and tugging at the bud, drawing an endless supply of clipped moans from behind your gritted teeth.

You ground your core against him, tightening your leg around his waist as you chased that friction you desperately craved. Simon sucked in a sharp breath, his mouth breaking from your skin for a moment to regain composure. But his lips didn’t falter for long. With a wicked grin, he brought his mouth to your other nipple, brushing it with his teeth. His grip fell to your waist, tightening around your hips and jerking them hard against his barely-covered erection.

You cried out, digging your nails into the back of his neck as he met your hips with a sharp thrust. Dragging against your core, his fingers dug further into your skin as you whined. Your stomach felt tight, every ounce of you wanting to wriggle against his grip, chase after that delicious friction, but his hands held firm. That knot in your core wound up impossibly tight, your face growing even hotter as he bucked your hips into his again, and again, and again.

Until it finally snapped.

“Simon!” you keened, your mouth falling open with soundless moans as your orgasm washed over you. The accused continued to grind against you, riding you through each wave until your twitching stilled.

You sucked in a heavy breath, letting your hands fall loose, your fingers dancing gently down the sides of his neck to rest on his shoulders. His fingers flexed against your waist, eyes darting to meet yours again. His pupils had blown wide enough to blend in completely with his dark irises. And in the dark lighting of the cave, you could have sworn you saw a somewhat glossy reflection in them.

Without a word, Simon leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. His palm slid up your back, laying flat between your shoulder blades to press you further into his chest. His skin was still impossibly warm, slightly dampened with a mix of sweat and sprays of water from the falls.

You’re not sure when, or how it happened, but your kiss grew fervently heated again. His tongue pushed past your lips, tangling with yours in a messy show of dominance. Simon's hands slid from your back, his thumbs brushing across each of your sensitive nipples before he broke away from the kiss.

“Don’t think I’m finished with you yet, yeah?” he growled, his hands finding your waist and spinning you around to face the stones behind you. “Hands on the wall.”

With a jolt, that familiar sense of arousal pooled in your lower stomach again. Already craving what you knew was coming next, you threw your palms flat against the stone, gasping at the coldness of it. Simon pressed his front against your back, and you shuddered at the realization that he’d stripped off his underwear.

His hands started at your throat. Brushing his fingers against your skin, they traveled down, stopping to give attention to each of your breasts, covering each mound and drawing a shaky breath from you. He skimmed over your abdomen, hooking his thumbs into the sides of your panties and dragging them down your legs. He took his time, inching his way across your skin with feather-light touches, and you just knew he was doing it to rile you up.

“Simon, please,” you begged, subtly pressing your hips back against him. You gasped at the hardness pressing back - it was big.

Not that you expected otherwise.

Simon chuckled behind you, all low and sexy. Your breath hitched in your throat as his tip grazed your entrance. You shifted your hips, almost trying to seat yourself on him, earning another dark chuckle.

“Ah ah- patience,” he teased. You huffed, desperate for his touch as his tip brushed across your entrance again, just barely dipping in. As your spine shuddered again, he found a solid grip on your waist, suddenly filling you with one deep thrust.

You cried, slapping a hand over your mouth as he hit that spot deep within. Your eyes glazed over, muffling another whimper as he gave another shallow thrust. And then suddenly, his breath fanned across your ear.

“Hands back on the wall,” he ordered. “I’m the only one that can hear you. And God, I wanna hear all those pretty sounds you keep making.”

He solidified his words with another pointed thrust, and your hands slapped against the wall, a long, pitched whine ripping from your throat.

“That’s more like it.” You could hear the grin behind his words as he pulled out until just the tip remained, before slamming back into you.

His hand found your hip, tilting it in a way that arched your back until his hips could fall flush against yours. You cried at the new angle, the tip of him brushing against your inner walls in long strokes. You curled your fingers into the rocks, your nails screaming in protest as they scratched against the rough stone. Simon’s free hand caught yours, prying your nails from the wall and curling his fingers between yours.

He didn’t keep the same pace for long, switching between long, drawn out thrusts, and practically drilling into your core. You let moans and whimpers fly, crying out each time he hit the spot that had you seeing stars. Simon’s own composure started to falter, clipped noises escaping from the back of his throat as he leaned more weight across your back. You felt him everywhere - his hand wandering across your stomach, his chest pressed fully against your back, his pinpointed thrusts hitting your inner walls. Hell, even the smell of him filled your senses, spinning in your head until all that existed around you was him.

“Fuck-” he swore, his voice just barely cracking behind his gritted teeth. “I hope you’re getting close, doll.” His thrusts grew sloppier with each word, and his fingers tightened around yours.

“Yeah-” you breathed, unable to form any other words. “I’m just-” he tilted his hips slightly, hitting you at a perfect angle. “Fuck! Right there!” Your pitch grew higher with each thrust as he drilled into that spot over and over, your entire body tightening around him as you approached the edge of your orgasm.

Simon growled as he came, pinning you with one final thrust that had you barrelling over the edge with him. You let out a long, drawn out sigh as your muscles finally relaxed. Simon leaned into you, pressing the both of you against the stone wall as he fought to regain his own breath.

“Well. I’d say I’m sufficiently warmed up.” You said between heaving breaths. Simon laughed, moving to wrap his arms around you in a gentle embrace.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, pressed up against that damp stone wall. It was long enough that the crack of daylight past the waterfall began to fade, leaving the moon to light up the dim space. Eventually, reality called, and you gently slid away from him to collect your still-damp clothing.

“Hey - This is gonna become a more… regular thing, right?” You asked, unable to keep that shining sense of hope from the back of your voice. Because God, you wanted it to. All at once, you were addicted to the man, never able to get enough. Hell, you were already tempted to jump him again as you watched him slide his damp shirt back on - the fabric clinging perfectly to his body.

Simon crossed the three steps towards you, his hand cupping your cheek as he drew you into one more long, passionate kiss. His fingers played with the ends of your hair even as he broke away from your lips, reaching to finally slide his mask back over his chin. The radio crackled to life with orders for exfil as he pulled you against his side.

“Sweetheart, there’s no fucking way I’m letting that stay a one-time occurrence.”

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@kawaiiwitch224 @kassiekolchek22 @buttermykolchek @obsessedwithtoomanythings @lorebite @yellowroses-world @ageofbajabule

#cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

Text

Steddie Notes Part 6

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

They’re stuck in the Upside Down.

Nancy. Robin. Eddie. And Steve’s so fucked up from the bats, every breath, ever movement, has him in agony, and he just keeps seeing Eddie here, and it makes it all so much worse. This was never supposed to happen. And how was Steve supposed to keep him safe, keep them all safe, when he could barely stand upright from the pain?

Eddie walks a little way ahead with Nancy, fled after saying, “for your modesty, dude,” and throwing his battle vest at Steve’s face. It leaves Steve with Robin as they navigate the vines and random earthquakes to get to the Wheeler’s house.

“What’s wrong with you?” Robin asks.

Steve narrows his eyes. “You mean other than being dragged across a dry lakebed and eaten by fucked up bats?”

“Is it. Eddie?”

He bites his lips between his teeth. Of course Robin knows. She always does. “I hate that he’s part of this, Robs. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“You think it’s your fault.” It’s not a question.

“How can I not.” His voice catches and he has to clear his throat before he can continue. “You got dragged into this just by being friends with me. And now Eddie? If he wasn’t our friend—if he wasn’t my—he would be safe.”

“Steve. You know that’s not true. Chrissy was cursed already. She would have always died that night. Eddie was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s not your fault.”

He nods, tears pooling along his lash lines. “We kissed,” he croaks out.

“What?” Robin shrieks loud enough to echo across the desolate, cursed landscape.

Eddie and Nancy glance back in time to see Steve knock his shoulder against her arm. “Quiet,” he hisses.

“Sorry,” she frowns. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner! When? How? Are you together now?”

His mouth twists. “No. I think I fucked it up? It was—fuck—when he came over after Chrissy. He was so upset, and I was comforting him, and it just happened. I feel like I took advantage of him.”

“So, you haven’t talked about it?”

He gives her a look again. “When would we have had the time?”

“Okay, okay. But he doesn’t seem mad. I mean, he still gazes at you all lovestruck and ridiculous.”

Heat bursts under the skin of Steve’s cheeks. “He does not,” he mumbles.

“But you do need to talk about it. Obviously. You two have been pinning for years.”

“It’s a year and a half. At most. Not even.”

“Feels like years to me.”

Steve scoffs, falls silent. “I’m scared, Robs. What if he doesn’t like me back? He was too upset when I kissed him, and—I pushed it too far.”

“You did pick a truly terrible time to kiss him, and you two should probably talk about that, but Eddie isn’t going to be upset that you have feelings for him.”

“How do you know? There’s no way you can be sure. I don’t want to risk everything.” “Steve, I—” Robin’s mouth contorts into a complicated series of o’s as she fishes for words. “We’re already risking everything,” she says. “With the Upside Down. With Vecna. When we’re back topside, you should take the time you need to talk to him, okay? I promise that, even if he doesn’t like you like that, he’ll still love you as his closest friend.”

He can’t think of the words to argue with, so he nods, stuffs his hands into the pockets of Eddie’s battle vest. His finger catches on something deep in the right pocket, accompanied by a telltale burst of pain. Steve hisses, retracting his hand, a drop of scarlet beads from a small slash at the tip of his index finger.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He wipes the blood on the vest—it’s already soaked with it, anyway.

“You okay?” Robin asks, her blue eyes sharp at Steve losing more blood.

“Yeah. Munson’s keeping sharp shit in his pockets again, is all.”

He reaches back into the pocket to find the offending weapon and finds a crumpled sheet of paper. An amused breath bursts out of him as he realizes what it must be, and he fishes it out with hesitation.

It’s crinkled and grimy with age, but Steve unfurls it anyway. It’s his own handwriting at the top: “You ever been in love?”

He doesn’t remember writing it, not clearly. There’s a vague recollection of wobbling around, crossfaded in his bedroom, scrawling words on the first acceptable surface he finds. Doesn’t remember giving it to Eddie, but he’s responded; it’s scrawled right there beneath Steve’s question: “No, but I think I’m falling.”

Steve stops in his tracks, staring at the note, eyes darting from the paper to Eddie. A bright pulse of hope sticks in his throat. They’re going to get out of the Upside Down, and when they do, Steve is telling Eddie everything.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

He doesn’t.

Nancy is taken by Vecna and then they fall into planning mode, apparently RV theft mode too (“don’t cha, big boy” is never going to leave his head), and in the panic and fear, there isn’t time.

There’s a little part of him, too, that doesn’t want to say, “I love you,” like it’s a good-bye. He meant it when he told Robin he still has hope, he does, refuses to accept any outcome that isn’t success, that leaves one of their rank dead.

So, he doesn’t talk to Eddie, and they’re in the Upside Down for their last stand and all the words and emotions pile up on his tongue but can’t find flight.

He, Robin, and Nancy turn to go, he’s already kicking himself for his silence, when Eddie’s voice rings out, “Hey, Steve?”

Steve turns fast, almost overbalances, but the meeting of their eyes steadies him. In the rich brown of Eddie’s, Steve thinks he sees all the things he wants to say echoed back. They gaze at each other in silence that thickens every millisecond until Eddie says, “make him pay,” and Steve lifts his chin in acknowledgement. He knows it’s not what Eddie means to say, thinks he understands why he can’t.

There will be plenty of time for their confessions when they get out of this alive. And they will. Steve is sure of it.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

It’s over.

It was hard. Bad. But it’s done. Vecna a smoldering ruin on the Upside Down version of the Creel House lawn.

Steve doesn’t feel triumphant, exactly. They’d almost died, strangled by the vines, briefly outmatched by Vecna. He is relieved, though. Eager to get back to the trailer park, to Eddie and Dustin.

They traverse the Upside Down, silent now and free of earthquakes, closing in on the trailer park in record time.

Up ahead, Steve makes out a hunched shape that must be Dustin in his ghillie suit. He wonders where Eddie is, but he’s not afraid.

He picks up speed to close the distance faster. “Dustin!” he shouts. He means it to sound excited, triumphant, but it’s strangled. His heart’s beating too fast.

Steve is near enough, makes out the dark heap at Dustin’s feet. Someone is chanting a high-pitched, unbroken rhythm of “no, no, no, no, no, nononono,” and it takes him several long moments to realize the sound is coming from his own mouth. He can’t make himself stop.

“Steve,” Dustin sobs. He’s covered in red, leaned over Eddie’s prone form.

There’s so much blood, congealing in dark pools on the grey earth.

“Eddie, Eddie, hey, hey,” Steve falls to his knees, fighting off the panicked keen building in his throat at Eddie’s mostly closed eyes.

“Babylove, honey, sweetheart, please, please look at me, okay?” There are bites on his cheeks that Steve avoids, tapping at Eddie’s cheekbones with shaking fingers.

Eddie’s eyes flutter, try to focus, but drift. “S’vie?” he rasps.

“Hey, hey, It’s me. We’re gonna get you out of here, but you got to stay awake for me, okay?”

“N’ver thought I’d go to heaven,” Eddie mumbles, he fights his eyes from rolling back.

Steve forces a laugh. “What a line, man,” his focus shifts. “Robin, Nancy, we need to stop the bleeding.”

They work in a flurry of motion, Steve talking to Eddie, struggling to keep him alert.

“You gotta stay with me, Eds. Okay? I can’t be without you. You know that, right? You’re everything, Eddie. Everything.”

Eddie smiles with teeth full of blood. “Whatever you say, angel,” he whispers. His eyes slide shut.

Steve swallows his scream, hefts Eddie into his arms, and runs.

(Part 7)

This is a rough one, please feel free to shout at me about it. Thank you so much for reading! One more part to go; and don't worry, nobody dies and there's a happy ending.

I can't add anymore tags, but I appreciate each and every one of you for coming on the steddie notes journey with me! 💜💜💜

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pedrostylez · 3 months

Text

How The Crow Flies - pt. 9

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 5.4k

Chapter Summary: You and Javier complete the raid on Lorea's house while Frankie is escaping with what is remaining of his crew

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Hurt feelings, violence, and blood mentioned heavily in parts, including description of bodies piled up, admitting of feelings (to the best of his ability) by Javier, SMUT including riding, but honestly it's brief.

A/N: Omg the final part! Once again, thank you guys for being patient. I hope you all enjoy and don't hate me for how I left it at the end...open to interpretation? Anyways....love you all! If I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @mellymbee

Frankie is tired. Arms aching, legs screaming, ready to collapse, tired.

His mind is clouded, exhaustion taking hold as Benny hands him another backpack full of money. The wind whips across his face, the thin air making him gasp a bit louder than he intended. Benny looks at him with a worried expression, shaking his head when Frankie shrugs off the look he gives him. “Almost done, man.”

“Yeah.” Frankie calls, tossing the bag up with a grunt. He glances over to Santiago, his face caved in with dark outlines and circles around his eyes.

He knows they are all pissed at him.

Crashing the helicopter was all he had left to do, and even though Redfly said it was fine, said he picked the best option there was, there’s this sinking feeling in Frankie’s stomach. More is about to go wrong, and it’s all Frankie’s fault for not putting his foot down when they overloaded the helicopter.

How could he deny Tom’s instruction? It was a losing battle, and even though they needed him to fly, he’s sure that he would have been cast aside if he had refused another time. And the looks exchanged between them when Refly shot at the group that surrounded them once they were all out of the crash…

All Frankie could think about was your face as he crashed the helicopter into the ground, and now your face as he throws another bag to Benny. You would have been disappointed too, he thinks.

This is going to be long and torturous.

Javier watches your legs jump in the passenger seat, the tac-vest feeling tight across his chest. He reaches out, only having a little while longer of being alone with you before he has to pretend you’re just another agent-his employee. “It will be okay, hermosa.”

You nod, giving a brief, closed lip smile, wrapping your fingers around his. “I know.”

He squeezes your thigh once more, letting it rest there until they turn on to a dirt road. You tense, retracting your hand and breathing heavily through your nose. Closer and closer, you become rigid in your seat, watching the mirror to make sure the caravan of agents is still following.

“How far we going? Over.” Jason speaks through the radio, you jumping in your seat at the sound. Javier chooses to not answer, knowing that they are close and not wanting to call any further attention to themselves for those that may be listening in. He refuses to let this be another fuck up.

As his car continues down the road the trees become dense, the dirt turning to mud, and the radio picks up chatter that is new to him. Tilting his head to listen, his fingers subconsciously squeeze tighter around your leg. You grunt, grabbing at his wrist to indicate as such, but he holds on as the words through the radio become clearer.

“Someone is coming.”

“Get the boy somewhere safe.”

You frown, biting at your bottom lip and looking over to him. “The boy must be his son.”

Javier grunts, pulling his gun from his holster with one hand while keeping the steering wheel steady. You do the same with your own, holding on to the dash as Javier speeds up. If they already know that they are on their way, this likely will be a gunfight. “How old is he?”

“Less than 10. But his mother and his sister…” You trail off in confusion, looking ahead and contemplating internally. You come to a realization, shaking your head profusely before speaking. “I don’t know what those guys did, but if they are protecting the son exclusively–”

“Then Lorea may be dead.” Javier finishes your sentence, pulling the car off to the side of the road roughly. The other vehicles follow suit, everyone stepping out with weapons drawn and ready. “On foot, be ready. Supposed to be 20 guards.” He calls to the others, crouching low and leading you toward the house.

He’s relying on you, on your information that you’ve gathered so far. It should be good intel, and you don’t show signs that you think otherwise. Your hand is resting on his shoulder as you both team up, stepping through the greenery and mud methodically on the way to each building ahead.

You tap his shoulder and point, sliding your arm up so that he doesn’t have to look behind him. “Back security house, there should be 5 in there.”

He nods, glancing around quickly before bringing you toward the security building. You’re both crouched under each window, guarded and ready to take action. It’s silent, no movement to be heard beyond the wooden walls and he watches as you frown, trying to listen. You both step to the door, a silent countdown until he lifts his leg and kicks just below the handle, breaking down the door in one swift motion. He holds his gun ready, searching with it, leading and finding nothing.

No one.

You gasp behind him, his attention drawn to where you’re looking to find a poorly stacked amount of bodies and blood in the corner. It stinks, the smell permeating around him as he looks around and goes for the bathroom door. It’s unlocked, no one behind it.

You both stand there in awe, listening for anyone else to say something into your separate ear pieces, or for gunshots to be heard. Nothing comes and you’re back to shaking your head. He can see your inhale sharply, wincing as the smell circles around you. “This is…weird.” You admit, holstering your gun and looking to the pile of men again.

“I thought you said they were just here for the money.” Javi grunts, stepping out of the security house and poking his head around the corner. No one else is in sight, and no noise of their agents are around either.

“Maybe they…got caught?” You guess about Santiago and his crew, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s go to the main house.” Javi decides, stepping in front of you and holstering his own gun. If this is how one security house is, then so will the others, and he is less worried about being swarmed. He takes less careful steps toward the main house where the rest of his team went.

Redfly is dead, Frankie is freezing his ass off, and all he can think about is your god damned face. He knows Will and Benny are looking at him, wondering why Frankie isn’t as quick to answer them, why he’s being closed off, but he just can’t help it.

Santiago is too stuck in his own head to notice.

Redfly’s body is sitting just a few yards away, wrapped with a tarp and covered, but Frankie swears he can still see his open eyes after he was shot. The boy that shot him is long forgotten, down the mountain a ways and he feels guilty that he doesn’t care as much as he thought he would. Frankie is too focused on the fact that when he closes his eyes, it’s either you, or Tom’s dead eyes. There’s only a few more bags of money, and he’s having a hard time believing this was worth it.

“Tell me about your girl, Fish.” Benny calls, shoving his hands into his armpits to generate some heat. His hood ruffles in the wind, the fire from the money they were willing to burn flickering between them.

Frankie shakes his head, sniffling and looking down at his knees. They’re covered in dirt, cold and aching. “Don’t have a girl.” He knows it’s pointless, to even deny. But there’s a part of him that wants to keep you to himself, still. Maybe if he blows Benny off, then he won’t ask again.

He’s wrong, of course. Benny scoffs, shaking his head and looking at Will. “He had that girl Yovanna set up for the jungle in his motel room a few times.” The smile grows on Ben’s face, white teeth stark against the dark surrounding him.

“Not supposed to be mixing like that, Fish.” Will chastises, smiling anyway. The brothers and their matching smiles staring back at Frankie, taunting him.

Frankie keeps his mouth shut, cracking his neck and adjusting his feet. He takes a look over to Santiago and sees his eyes are on him too, curious as the others, and he sighs. They aren’t going to let it go, it seems. “Probably won’t see her again.” Frankie mumbles, his chin jutting closer to his chest to let some of his breath warm the inside of his jacket.

Benny laughs at him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Sure you will, Fish. Keep your head on straight and you can come back down here, free as a bird, and see her again if you wanted.”

It’s silent while Frankie thinks, finally coming to the conclusion to tell them what he found out about you. “She…she was more than just what Yovanna hired.”

Yovanna was long gone, already on her way to Australia as far as they were all concerned. Benny quirks his eyebrow up at Frankie, glancing at Will and then giving a small shove with his shoulder against his, silently asking him to continue.

A sigh falls from Frankie’s lips, shaking his head before letting it fall out of his mouth. “She’s the Siren, from Miami.”

When he looks up at them their eyes are wide and stupefied. All watching him closely, confusion clear before a laugh bubbles out of Will. “No fucking way.”

Frankie nods, a small chuckle escaping. “Yovanna hired the DEA as her whore.”

Everyone is quiet for another moment, all eyes going to Santiago. Pope’s eyes widened, looking between them all and then a burst of laughter fell from his mouth.

Benny and Will join, all of them beginning to laugh around the blazing fire until one begins to wheeze. As it quiets down, Frankie realizes that all eyes are still on him waiting for further explanation. He looks at the three of them and sighs. “The only reason I found out was because her boss called her cellphone while she was in the bathroom.”

“What a shame.” Will said, shaking his head. “Could have gotten her killed if it wasn’t you.”

Frankie winces, remembering the knife pressed to your chest that he clutched in his hands. The fear in your eyes as blood pooled and dripped down doesn’t quite leave him as he says, “I mean, I almost did.”

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t.” Benny exclaims, slapping a hand over his back. “Would have to be running from the DEA rather than a bunch of drug lords.”

Frankie gives a half hearted laugh, looking out beyond the mountain and frowning. He wonders where you are, and if Javier Pena is keeping you safe. He glances over to Redfly, his body covered and supporting the weight of a single bag of money. He doesn’t think this was worth it after all.

Panic is coursing through you at the sight; men dead both DEA and Lorea’s, mop buckets dumped and water stained with blood. Drywall is ripped from most of the walls with stacks of money hanging haphazardly from the crumbling panels.

Javier’s mouth is open in shock, and the way you reach for him to hold yourself upright shocks you, the dizziness overwhelming. “What is….what?”

He’s shaken out of his thoughts with your touch, closing his mouth and holding your arm just above your elbow to keep you upright. He turns just as Jason steps past him. “What the fuck happened?”

Jason winces at his tone, cracking his neck. “Remaining security guards were ready for us, but most of these guys were already dead. Looks like they were cleaning up.”

“Lorea?” Javier presses, stepping toward Jason as if to pounce.

Jason doesn’t react, giving a half-hearted shrug. “Dead.” He points, moving toward the staircase. “Upstairs, if you want to see for yourself.” His eyes flash to yours sympathetically, then turning to go up the stairs.

Javier looks to you, squeezing your arm gently before letting go and leading the way to the master bedroom. You attempt to follow him, slowly climbing the stairs until Javier is out of sight ahead of you.

You’re sweating, clutching onto the stair rail and to the walls that are still standing as images of being in here only a few days ago go through your mind. It feels hard to breathe, seeing the blood smeared on the walls and the bodies piled in a corner or being moved by DEA men.

You weren’t used to this-only ever dealing with people that were alive and putting them behind bars. Never a raid like this-you weren’t ready for it.

You gasp, shocked as you step into the master bedroom where the dresser has been pushed to the side, the wall covered in holes and Lorea on the ground.

Behind his dead body is a dark room with still working security cameras, and a pile of money that has been combed through. The walls in the main bedroom have been torn from the studs, drywall and wood scattered around with torn and crumpled bills. It’s almost unbelievable, how things have been left. Did Frankie do this?

You begin shaking your head, whispering mostly to yourself, “I don’t understand.”

Javier comes up behind you, the stress and anger roiling off of his body before he gently grasps your arm. “Your friends got what they wanted out of this it looks like.” He gruffs out, pouting in a way that typically annoys you. Currently, you’re unsure if he’s angry and that alone stresses you out.

You turn to him, frowning. “This isn’t what I thought it would be Javi–”

“Don’t.” He stops you, turning to look at Jason and the others in the room who are still occupied. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose. When he turns back to you, you are now sure that he is angry, no question. “You need to go downstairs, go sit in the car. I have to do damage control with Stechner.”

You go to protest him, shaking your head defiantly. “Well, let me help–”

“No.” He huffs, adjusting his stance to stand farther away from you. “You’ve done enough.”

You step back blindly, looking over to Jason who is eyeing you curiously, David who is pretending to not notice and taking photos of Lorea. Tears begin to well in your eyes as you walk down the steps to the front corridor, stopping in your tracks at the opening.

You breath starts to come heavily, difficult to push past your mouth. You lean forward, hands on your knees and let some tears fall. This is not how this was supposed to go. Frankie was supposed to get in and out. They weren’t supposed to kill this many people.

You feel guilt roiling in your stomach, looking around briefly to see if anyone is watching you while uncontrollable tears are rolling down your face. You aren’t able to comprehend how this happened-you thought you did everything right. You did what you were told, as much as you were told with only a few hiccups along the way.

Frankie was a hiccup.

The idea that Javi had been right flashes through your mind, shaking your head at yourself almost immediately. No, that can’t be right. But how did you seriously believe that Frankie and all of them would just sneak in for money and leave without hurting someone?

Your heartbeat slows down as you lean against the door frame and look out into the jungle, watching the leaves sway in what little wind there was. You glanced toward the direction of Javier’s vehicle, not seeing a soul in the yard. Turning to look into the room you’re at the threshold of, you also didn’t see anyone.

Frankie had said they were here for a payday.

Your eyes lock on a hole in the wall, the plaster thrown about and piles of money stacked haphazardly in between the studs. You wonder why they didn’t take all the money, looking to a duffle bag that is currently empty, labeled “DEA” on the outside.

Your mind sparks with interest, looking over the duffle and finding yourself suddenly in front of the hole in the wall, duffle in hand. You give a final glance around, still alone, and begin blindly reaching into the wall and shoving the duffle full of money.

To be honest, you don’t really know what you’re doing. You keep hearing voices from above you, the movement of Javier, Jason and David, but it doesn’t stop you from almost filling the bag full.

You step out into the yard, trudging in the direction of Javier’s car and throwing the duffle into the floorboard of the passenger seat. Maybe this did go all to shit, and maybe you were going to lose your job, but you weren’t going to go empty handed.

Javier is trying desperately to keep his cool. He couldn’t help the coldness toward you when he asked you to go down to the car. He needed to start planning how he was going to handle Stechner.

That son of a bitch was going to fire him.

You were silent as you left, too dumb founded and concerned to really have anything else to say. He knew you weren’t prepared to see this; you had trusted what you were told more than you let on, it seems.

“Boss.” Jason tilts his head for him to come closer, looking back to the security cameras. “Looks like they haven’t deleted any files for the past week. We can likely see who did this–”

“I know who did this.” Javier huffs, crossing his arms and looking over his shoulder to see who is listening. “Get rid of them.”

Jason’s eyes widen, shaking his head briefly. “What? But we could–”

“If it is a week’s worth then she’ll be on it.” He bites out as quietly as he can manage. “And if we only get rid of her, it will look too suspicious to only have some of it. We have to get rid of it.”

“We could say it got damaged with gunfire, or that he was in the middle of reviewing and deleting–”

“No.” Javier finishes, feeling a throbbing in his head suddenly. Clean up was always the worst part with these raids, and now there were children involved. “All of it, gone. You have at max 30 minutes before Stechner starts rubbing our noses in it, so get it out of sight.”

Jason nods, agreeing that the wrath of Stechner’s connections was not worth throwing a rogue military special unit under the bus.

No matter how badly Javier wanted Frankie to suffer.

The pricklings of jealousy are roiling through him as he takes the stairs down, half expecting you to be standing there waiting for him in defiance. When he doesn’t find you, he takes a deep breath and leans against an open hole in the wall.

His eyes catch on the stacks of money, biting at the inside of his cheek at the temptation. Who would miss this, exactly?

There’s no opportunity, David coming down the stairs with paperwork and Jason following shortly behind him, confirming that everything had been deleted. Javier can feel his phone ringing in his pocket as he starts his trek to his car, the top of your head coming into view.

He looks down, seeing Stechner’s caller-id and silencing his phone automatically. His stride speeds up, launching his door open to see you leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, crying into your hands.

An ache in his chest takes over the frustration as he climbs into the driver’s seat placing a gentle hand on the back of your neck. You jump at the contact, lifting your head to look at him briefly before you try to suppress your tears.

“It’s okay, hermosa.” He coos, pulling your face toward his and pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

You try to suck in air harshly, wiping at your face and shrinking away from him. “This is all my fault.”

Javier isn’t as quick as he would like to say no, debating internally of whether or not to point out things he finds to be true. If you hadn’t stayed an extra day, not answering his phone call and spending it with Frankie, then maybe they would have captured Lorea, maybe they all would be keeping their jobs.

Instead he is silent, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the curve of the back of your neck, sighing. “Let’s go back to the office before we get in any more trouble.”

You’re sitting on Javier’s couch again, dumbstruck and numb.

You were fired, of course.

Being shipped back to Miami by the end of the week is what the ambassador had said. “You’re still welcome to work for the DEA there, but we have no further assignments for you here.”

Javier was the last to enter Noonan’s office, watching each of you get canned in different ways. David was being moved to another division, Jason was being shipped off to California, you were being sent home, and Javier…

You dreaded to think about what would be happening with his position.

He asked you to go to his place, slipping his key to you and brushing past your shoulder without another glance before he was called into Noonan’s office. You weren’t completely sure what Javier would want to say to you in the privacy of your home, and you hoped he understood.

You felt like a fuck up.

His door was pushed open before you had much more time to spiral, his suit jacket off and over his shoulder, his eyes finding yours. “Sorry, it took longer than I thought.”

“What did he say?” You ask quietly, beginning to pick at the skin around your thumbnail.

Javier clocks it, throwing his jacket on the back of a chair and slipping off his shoes at the table. He strides over, giving a soft smile before settling next to you and grabbing for your hands. “He asked what I was thinking, asked if I thought stepping away from the cartels was worth what Lorea potentially had.”

“And?” You were impatient, clasping your hands tighter and worrying your bottom lip.

He shrugs. “I told him I had good intel, said it was worth the risk.” Your eyes can’t help but look over to the duffle bag you dropped by your other bag of belongings. He brings your attention back to him by saying, “Let me come home with you.”

You’re shocked, furrowing your brow and pulling your hands away from his. “What?”

“I quit, and I don’t want to go back to Texas just yet.” He shrugs, almost nonchalantly except you know better-his eyes are telling a different story. The apprehension behind them, the way they watch your facial expressions.

“I-I don’t know if I’m going to go back to Miami or not yet, Javi.” You sigh, looking to the floor. Part of you thinks you need to return to Utica, to hide away for as long as possible and forget about all of this. About the jungle, about Javier, about Frankie.

Javi’s hand brushes against your cheek, subconsciously leaning toward him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the snow.” He says quietly, smirking before correcting himself. “If you’ll have me.”

Your heart beats faster, tilting into him and smiling. “You wouldn’t even stop in Texas first?”

He shrugs. “Maybe for a week, to let my dad know what is going on but…I would meet you wherever you wanted me to.”

“Why?” The question falls out of your mouth, unable to be stopped. You and Javier had been back and forth, and you weren’t necessarily opposed to this–whatever this was.

It was mostly just complicated.

Javier smiles almost shyly at you, scratching his fingers at the base of your skull. “I care about you.” He says simply, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours but pulling back before fully committing to the act. His eyes searched yours, asking for permission.

You met him the rest of the way, leaning in to press your lips to his and shutting your eyes tightly. Javier groaned into your mouth, bringing his other hand up to the other side of your face and holding you to him.

He pulls away for a moment, face flushed and his eyes closed. “I don’t just care about you. I just…do you need me like I need you?” He questions, opening his eyes to look into yours.

They’re wide, a dark chocolate brown that you wish you could swim in to forget all your worries, but his question has you unsure. “I don’t know what you mean, Javi.”

He pulls away, clasping your hands in his again and running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “I mean that…if you and I aren’t in the same room, then I’m thinking about you.” You pauses, pressing his lips to one hand and then the other. “If you’re in trouble, then I want to get to you.”

Javier leans back forward, pressing his mouth to yours and letting his tongue swipe briefly around before mumbling against your lips. “And if you’re not the one on top of me then–”

“I get it.” You mumble back, pressing your lips back to his and bringing your fingers up to mess up his curls.

He groans again, his question forgotten as you straddle his thighs and slide a hand under his shirt and up to his chest.

You laugh as he pushes your shirt up, helping you undo your bra and remove everything from the waist up. His lips sear into the skin of your chest, burning into you like a brand.

It’s quick, faster than normal how you both become completely naked and his hands are squeezing at your hips to get you sinking on to his cock. His eyes are rolling back into his head as your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders, riding him slowly and carefully.

He squeezes your hips harder until you yelp, almost in pain, just so that he can hold you up and thrust himself into you instead of having you do the work.

The sweat covering you starts to cool with his breath fanning over you, both of you silent beyond grunts and moans. He’s focused on your center, his thumb snaking to your front to press gently into your clit, his eyes snapping up to watch you orgasm around him.

He follows you over that cliff, letting you collapse into him and his arms wrapping around your back, stroking up and down your spine.

It’s a moment or two before you lean upright, smiling down at him and brushing the fringe off of his forehead. “I think that I need you too.” You whisper, watching the smile spread across his face.

“Yeah?” He asks lightly, pressing a kiss in between your breasts before playfully biting at one nipple.

You laugh again, nodding along with him. “I think I’ll go to Miami to start, though. And you should go to Texas.”

He grumbles, half-heartedly agreeing before mumbling. “Yeah, okay.”

Two weeks later

You’re sitting cross legged in an almost empty apartment in Bogatá, packing up the final bag of your belongings. Another stack of money is being wrapped in a shirt, folded neatly with a pair of jeans as if nothing is wrong with it before being placed carefully into the suitcase.

You had put as much as you could into your bank account without raising suspicions, but the whole thing was nerve wracking to begin with. You phone is ringing incessantly somewhere, and you blindly reach for the last place you left it.

Pressing it to your ear, you answer. “Hello?”

“Hermosa.” Javier says through the speaker, a clear smile in his voice. “You lose your phone again? You need a new one?”

“No, no…” You trail off, looking to the turned off burner phone you had left on your kitchen table. You pick it up, fiddling with it as you pace. “How’s Texas?”

“Oh fine.” He grumbles, shuffling around something before the click of a door reaches your ears. “Wanted to make sure you were on your way to the airport.”

“Just about, the car is on it’s way.” The burner phone comes to life in your hands, the screen a bright blue before it settles and tells an incorrect time. “Everything is basically packed though.”

“Good.” Javier pauses and you can sense his nervousness.

“What is it Javi?” You ask with a small chuckle, crossing your arms.

“Just wanted to make sure it was still okay to fly to Miami in a week?” He asks. You can picture that he is running his hand through his hair right now. “You’ll only have been back a week, and I don’t want to impose–”

“You’re not!” You exclaim. “I’m looking forward to seeing you. Don’t back out on me.”

“Alright, alright.” He laughs, then launching into something his father did the night before and complaining that he is getting called by the Sheriff’s office to become a deputy. “They want me? A retired DEA agent?”

“Well your ass would look great in their uniforms.” You coo, zipping up the suitcase and setting it by the door.

He grumbles, complaining a bit more before finally asking for you to have a good flight, and to let him know when you have landed, even with the time difference.

You make the promise, hearing someone honk at the front door and hanging up quickly before exiting the apartment and tossing the key under the mat.

After loading up your bag and getting comfortable in the back seat, your phone begins to ring again. You groan out loud, looking down to your hand where you are still holding the burner phone and your daily phone, and see that it is not the one you had expected. The number is not one you know, and obviously not saved in the contacts, but your heart begins to beat faster.

The burner rings for a third time before you snap out of wondering who it could be, flipping it open and bringing it to your ear. You listen for a moment, frowning when there is no clear indication of who it could be. “Hello?”

A sigh you’ve heard. “‘You alright?” Frankie gruffs through the speaker, quiet but calm.

“How the hell did you get this number?” You ask just as quietly.

“Remembered a few digits. Sue me.” He bites back, and you feel yourself heating at the thought. Frankie as he looked through your phone to see Javi calling you over and over, also going to the settings to find what the number to the phone was. You’re not sure if the heat is anger or want.

“What the fuck happened?” You launch into questioning him, asking why they had done what they did, trying to not frighten the driver that was pretending to not listen.

“It got all screwed up, and I ended up more broke than before.” He sighs after listening to your rant, your questions drilling into him. You think that maybe he is actually relaxed somewhere, resigned.

You glance down to your purse between your feet, some of the money you had taken in your own wallet. “You didn’t even get any of it?”

“Oh, we got some. Lots, even.” He laughs ruefully. “But it was too much for the helicopter, and Redfly died and–we got enough to get us out of there.”

You hum, slightly disappointed for him. You think briefly that you should tell him you were able to get some of the cash, but then quickly decide against it.

The driver pulls up into the airport temporary parking, popping the trunk and pulling out your bags for you.

“Frankie, I have to go.” You sigh.

“Where?” He scoffs, not believing you.

You roll your eyes, looking around and seeing that driver has already left, and you’re about to be late for security. “I have to get on this flight. Go home.”

“Miami?” He asks, suddenly excited.

“Well, yeah I–”

“Let me pick you up.” He interrupts.

You pause, standing on the sidewalk with the burner pressed to your ear, your other phone in your hand. Finally, after a long moment of silence with Frankie patiently waiting on the other end, you’ve decided.

“My flight lands at 4.” You confirm.

You almost hear him smiling. “I’ll be there.” He says quietly, a silent promise following his words.

You click the phone shut, looking around you briefly before tossing the burner into the nearby trash, stepping toward the entrance to get your bags checked. Frankie could memorize your new number later.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #crossover #frankie morales x reader #htcf

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stevethehairington · 2 years

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It's been days. Weeks. Maybe even months — he doesn't know. He's lost track of time, never really had a solid thread of it to follow in the first place.

All he knows is one second he's staring up into the redrimmed, watering eyes of Dustin, mumbling something about sheep and taking care, and the next second he's blinking awake.

Somehow. Someway.

He'd been so sure that that was it, that he was dying. But... apparently, the universe still had more in store for him.

Except as his vision clears and his mind starts to piece itself back together he realizes— he's not... he isn't in a hospital room. And he's not in his bed at home either.

He's... oh god, he's on the ground. The cold, hard ground. And he's surrounded by bats — the very same bats that put him here. Only, they're not moving... they're lying there, lank and lifeless. Just like he was moments ago.

He's still stuck down there.

The sight of the bats strikes a fear so deep that it has him scrambling back. And then everything is on fire. Pain rips through his abdomen, his arms, his legs, his neck. The wave of it hits him so hard that he nearly retches. He gasps out, chokes on the pain, squeezes his eyes shut, wishes desperately that it would stop.

When it subsides enough that he's able to breathe again, he takes stock of himself. Wounded, obviously, covered in blood still. It's dried (for how long?), but he can still smell the overwhelming metallic tang of it. Can still taste it. He's still in his battle clothes, the ripped vest, the torn shirt.

But he's alive. He's alive.

It's cold down here, and it's dark, too. The smell of rot and decay is heavy in the air, cloying in a sickening way. He hears faint noises in the distance, and he doesn't want to stick around to find out just what is making those noises.

He doesn't know if it's over.

(It doesn't feel over.)

But he does know that he has to get out.

(He has to get home.)

He tries to stand, clenches his teeth to hold in the scream as the pain tears through him again. He can only take two staggering steps before he collapses again.

But he's not giving up. He's got to get to that gate.

He's going to try, even if it kills him.

So he rises to his knees. Plants his elbows into the dirt.

And Eddie crawls.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson is alive #this is reeeeeeaaaalllly rough lol but i wanna ride the wave of the news of The Crawl lol #mack writes #macks ficlets

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quasitsqueeries · 5 months

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The Emperor wasn't 12 feet tall

I see this meme a lot in my Instagram feed and it really grinds my gears:

Not because it seems to be trying to shame a fictional antagonist for being "wrong" (although that really doesn't help), but because whoever made it seems to have missed that depictions of the Emperor as superhuman are meant to be Imperial Propaganda.

Now, I realise I'm going to be fighting an uphill battle here because there seem to be people working for Games Workshop and producing their media who also missed that memo, and for a while now the studio has started producing actual depictions of the Emperor, and some of those depections show him as 12 feet tall and immortal. This might be controversial but I think what this shows is that Games Workshop don't understand Games Workshop's source material.

Here's a picture of the Emperor from the original Rogue Trader rulebook.

Even this is obviously meant to be a propaganda image, but here he looks like just a regular guy in armour, he's about the same size as the people around him. Not a superhuman, just a guy with an excess of hubris.

There's this literary construct called the unreliable narrator. When I studied literature we were given this short story to read called Bartleby the Scrivener. It's told from the point of view of an employer about a clerk who was apparently really difficult to manage. The subtext is that the narrator is trying to manipulate the reader to make themself look good.

For a long time, that's what Warhammer 40,000 did, the Imperium was made out to be an unreliable narrator. Stories about the Imperium's "glorious past" were told through the haze of ten thousand years of unending war, by an ecclesiastical class with a vested interest in keeping Imperial citizens committed to feeding the war machine. To the Imperium, the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy serve the function of myths, more than history. I've gone on before about how important heroic figures like Siegfried and Perseus and Prometheus were to the Nazis. The Imperium, being a fictional state that draws on the aesthetics and ideology of Fascism, uses the figures of the Emperor and Primarchs the same way.

Basically what I'm saying is that when Imperial sources state that these people were twelve feet tall and immortal and could, um, turn a giant ork into a lightbulb on a whim, it's not because they had these powers, but because they've been ascribed these powers by their priesthood, who have total control over the flow of information in this setting.

And I get that this is hard, because most people don't get taught this stuff, and often people are probably looking for escapism from their fiction and why would the book I'm reading lie to me? But I think it really makes the setting more interesting if you look at it this way.

Also, I realise that since 2006 there have been books around that describe the Emperor, and they do show him as superhuman, and I think those depictions are based on the writers misunderstanding the material they're working from. I guess Tolkien wrote the existence of The Hobbit into Middle Earth as the Red Book of Westmarch so I can tell myself that the Horus Heresy novels are meant to be in-universe Imperial propaganda.

ADDENDUM: I need to add this because I've been reading about Perpetuals, which is apparently what the Emperor is since the Horus Heresy series was published. Apparently these individuals are human mutants that are both immortal and invincible. I remember Mechanicum heavily implying that the Emperor and St. George are the same person. Here's the problem with that. There are two themes that I think are really important in Warhammer 40,000. One is the Emperor's hubris, the idea was that he was playing god, genetically engineering monstrosities in the form of the primarchs. In the Greek tragic mould, it's this hubris that leads to his downfall. This kind of loses its sting if he's just trying to recreate what what he already is.

The other theme is the Imperium's superstition. This one is really the core of 40K. The Imperium has taken the corpse of a man who tried to rule the galaxy, told themselves he's not dead, plugged the corpse into a machine that "regenerates" him, and founded an intolerant, violent and expansionist religion around this husk. This theme changes significantly if the Emperor actually was as powerful as the Ecclesiarchy makes him out to be, and actually isn't dead, and has somehow been regenerating for the last 10,000 years. There's a question here about what would make an entity worthy of worship, or being called a god, and I probably shouldn't get into it but this is my blog so I'm going to. It seems like there's an assumption among some writers that if something can be rationally explained then it's not a god, because gods ipso facto don't exist. They've incorporated nonexistence into their definition of gods. This is where you get the idea that the Chaos gods aren't gods, because the setting explains their existince "rationally" with its internal logic (nevermind that there's nothing rational about the warp). If there were gods in a rational sense, then our model of the universe would have to change to accomodate them. I think the upshot of this is basically that if what the Horus Heresy novels claim about the Emperor is true, then the Ecclesiarchy are right and he is a god within the logic of the setting. That doesn't justify the genocide and expansionism, but maybe it does justify the worship, and that's something that I think takes away from the setting.

#warhammer 40000 #horus heresy #emperor of mankind #games workshop #wargaming

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hotasfahrenheit · 9 months

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Mew trying to become Ray let alone date him was not on my bingo card for this week but I'm no professional bingo card designer, let's talk about this anyway

We all went into this show knowing it was going to be messy, asking for it to be messy, we're all weak for SandRay so RayMew is upsetting because we want Ray with Sand, sure, but setting all of that aside, the thing that is really concerning to me about the fact that Mew is choosing to rebound with Ray is the fact that he is very creepily BECOMING RAY while doing it. He's putting on a persona to handle his life right now and it's really unhealthy and boy needs to cut it out and get some therapy. (they all need therapy.)

At the beginning of the episode, before the confrontation with Boston, Mew is dressed more or less as himself. He and Ray do dress similarly on a base level- they both wear a lot of patterned, unbuttoned shirts over a second shirt, but Mew normally wears stripes over tshirts, and mostly light colours with a lot of blues and greens. Ray wears a lot of darker colours and patterns with shapes and designs, with a lot of reds, tans, and oranges, over tanktops/vests/whatever you want to call them where you're from.

After blasting Boston into the pool and delivering one of the most satisfying kicks on television, before going for his confrontation with Nick, we get the creepy tub shot of Mew sinking into his misery and his upcoming revenge era-

To put on his Ray cosplay, he's gotta sink down into the deep. This isn't a rebirth or an emergence of a new, stronger version of himself; this is him descending, covering himself and his hurt with someone else's aura and attitude so that he can cope with the path he's decided he needs to go on to burn his enemies and get his revenge.

He tries it out when he goes to see Nick and it works for him-

This is his soft launch, where he's up against someone else who has, or feels he has, been done wrong by Boston and Top (and done wrong, obviously) but that Mew knows is vulnerable. Mew pushes on Nick to help him get his revenge on Boston, and Nick crumbles. Using this persona, this attitude, is working for him.

He uses it to hunt down Gap next, another trial run, that goes flawlessly for him as well.

He's got the black tank, the necklace, and a black, white, and grey shirt this time, another test of borrowed confidence. And he's successful: he pulls Gap with almost no effort, he gets the file, he's ready to go now. He's used the Ray based persona twice with people he doesn't know, his confidence is up, which means he's ready to use it on someone he does know.

So when he gets ready to confront Boston, we get a whole sequence of him preparing for the battle, and checking all the details. There's a lot of very close up shots of his face and eyes here that I left out of the gifs because this scene was already long, and a lot of focus on each detail.

The necklace like Ray wears, a tanktop like Ray wears (but black! because this is Mew in his angsty villain era!), a patterned button up shirt like Ray wears, check the hair and go. Armored with this other persona, he's ready to handle Boston, and he does. Much, much better than Ray himself, mind you, compared to when Ray went and confronted Boston in the last episode.

The next big outfit switch we get for Mew in this episode (I'm not counting the whole big Top punching Mew confrontation since Mew and Ray are both just wearing their school clothes there) is Top's daydream about dancing with Mew. This whole sequence is so soft focus and Top looks so sad and there's no one else there which implies to me he's imagining this and it's not an actual memory, but either way we're back to Mew in stripes, with Top in stripes as well.

What's different about Mew and Top matching versus Mew matching himself to Ray? Mew and Top don't really MATCH so much as coordinate. They're often in different colours, different styles, different material shirts, etc. Like here, Mew is wearing an unbuttoned dress shirt with vertical stripes over a tshirt, while Top is wearing a collared polo shirt with horizontal stripes, AND they're wearing different colours. They work together without fully matching, and they're distinct to the characters as well. Even when their styles get a little closer, like Top wearing some solid colour button up shirts in episode 6 instead of polo shirts, he styles them differently than Mew does and I at least can't really picture them switching clothes and having the outfits really look right.

Meanwhile, the last scene of the episode, with Mew dancing with Ray, we get this-

Mew is dressed as Ray again, even shifting into Ray's common colour schemes with the flowers on this one. His first outfit when he went to see Nick was a trial and the pattern still had a lot of blues in it, but he's been shifting into darker colours with the tans and oranges we see Ray in pretty often with this.

(Ray, meanwhile, is wearing a shirt that looks like something Sand would have chosen for him, of course.)

Ray is reckless, Ray is fearless, Ray is bold, Ray is confident, Ray is wild and sometimes unpredictable, or he at least seems to be to the much more conservative Mew, so slipping into Ray's clothes and taking on what he thinks is Ray's persona is a way for Mew to push himself in ways he hasn't before. There's no way Mew could have handled his whole spy mission to get the video file from Gap as himself the way he has been; that's not in his wheelhouse.

From the preview for next week it looks like Mew is sliding into more of Ray's persona with the partying behaviors, and I don't think it's going to end well for him. But being with Top has taught him that trying to get someone to change is useless because they're still the same mess on the inside, so his decision to slide down the same path as Ray and let go of his inhibitions instead of trying to fix Ray is as unsurprising as it is self-destructive.

Seeing Mew take some kind of power over his life should have been satisfying, and in some ways it definitely was, like watching him burn the notebook page and try to put his foot down with Top, but then seeing him do it while spiraling mentally and slowly covering himself with Ray's outward persona at the same time was incredibly unnerving. Adding in him deciding to get involved with Ray romantically and it just speed ratchets up the unhealthy factor by a million miles a minute.

It also shows how well Mew actually knows Ray now compared to how well he thinks he knows Ray and who and what he thinks Ray is, that he could send himself down this path without seeing the writing on the wall about who Ray is trying to be and what Ray is trying to deal with behind Ray's substance abuse problems and everything else, but I imagine that will be part of the inevitable explosion that THIS impending disaster will also turn into, potentially very soon.

You can't fix your problems by pretending to be someone that you're not, especially if who you're trying to be is someone you know who is incredibly problematic and unhealthy themselves. It's a whole toxic situation even BEFORE you start trying to DATE THEM AT THE SAME TIME.

We wanted a mess and boy are we getting it.

(ETA: Should have stuck a credit in here earlier oops, a post from @spokenfromtheheartandsoul got my brain going in this direction last night and this post is what happened after the gears turned on this for most of the day)

#only friends the series #ofts #only friends #only friends meta #ofts mew #ofts ray #ofts top #raymew #topmew #only friends ep7 #it took me all day to write this after having “Mew dressing as Ray to pick up Gap unhinged fiasco” saved in my drafts at 4am #mia gifs things #mia gifs drama things #mia gifs only friends things

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kittyball23 · 9 months

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Battle of the Bands (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: A follow-up to oneshot “The Trade”; Branch is captured by Velvet and Veneer, and the time has come for Poppy and the brothers to achieve the seemingly impossible in order to free him – the perfect Family Harmony!

A/N: Requested by WeirdNCrazy on AO3, krisalyn598 on Wattpad, and with ideas from @pixarchan. See the end for some explanatory notes, too. Enjoy!

__________________________________________

“I don’t know… maybe we shoulda kept the other guy too?”

Veneer tapped the side of the diamond with a finger, peering inside at Branch as though the Troll was some rare species of animal in a zoo.

Velvet, who’d been carefully holding the diamond, tugged it away from him. “Watch it!” she snapped. “We don’t want anything happening to him, unless we make it happen. Besides, Pink Lloyd over there was running out of juice. But something tells me that this little guy is gonna last a whole lot longer…” She smiled what looked to be a sweet smile, though Branch could tell it was laced with a dark menace that chilled him.

“Yeah, right,” he growled at them, trying to think of a better comeback, wanting to say with confidence that he’d get out of there just fine. But he didn’t, because he couldn’t make that claim. He didn’t know what the gang was up to, now that he’d been captured. How were they going to stop them?

“Backtalker, huh?” Velvet shook her head. “Too bad you can’t be more quiet like your wussy brother. It would work out better for me!”

“And me!” Veneer chimed in. “Right?”

Velvet shot her brother a look. “Uh, yeah, duh…” she said, but it was so obviously insincere.

Veneer frowned at this. “You see!” he cried. “You see! I knew we shoulda kept the other guy, even if we were starting to wear him out. You don’t wanna share!”

“Oh, shut up!” Velvet yelled at him. “I’m the one who said we should be singers in the first place, so it makes sense that I get to have the most talent, get it?”

Veneer got it, but he wasn’t having it. “You’re not being fair!” he whined, and reached for the diamond in her hands, grasping it tightly.

“Hey! Let go! Stop it!” Velvet said, struggling with Veneer for hold of the diamond for the next minute, while Branch was knocked about inside. Finally, Velvet came out as victor when she mustered enough strength to tear it away completely and knock her brother back at the same time.

“Idiot,” she mumbled under her breath, then, with a wild look in her eye, she cradled the diamond close to her face. “I will not be denied what I deserve,” she hissed. “And I will be adored.” With that, she held the diamond readily up to her nose, preparing to inhale that sweet Troll essence that would no doubt make her (and her brother, she supposed) the most envied diva in all of Mount Rageous… and then, all of the world!

And she would’ve followed through, if it hadn’t been for the shock that jolted through her when a scream bellowed through the air.

“STOP RIGHT THERE, YOU FREAKS!”

Branch recognized that voice right away, too – he’d heard it just as loud as it had been when it called out at Bridget and Gristle’s wedding, and he was stunned to find that it was his big brother, John Dory.

Wait… all of his big brothers!

Behind him, still decked in their not-so-form-fitting old outfits, were Clay and Spruce who, from the look of it, were ready to rumble. Alongside them were Poppy and Floyd. The Pop Queen had given the second youngest BroZone member back the magenta vest that belonged to him, while she’d taken to wearing the white shades that Branch had donned as a baby. Poppy frowned up at the dolled-creature, while Floyd too put on a brave face. It was a display of courage and determination on all their parts, though Velvet thought otherwise.

She began to laugh in an instant at the five little Trolls, finding them ridiculous, and when she didn’t stop, John Dory, taking leadership as he’d most always done, spoke up.

“Excuse me,” he shouted, “I believe you have something that belongs to us!”

“Or should we say, someone,” Spruce pitched in with a huff.

“Oh, really?” Velvet asked sarcastically. “Sorry, guys, but this diamond – and everything in it – belongs to ME. So if you want it, you’re gonna have to – “

“HIT IT!”

Velvet startled at the interruption, a part of her infuriated for having her victory spiel cut off, and a part of her confused for what started happening right after the Pop Queen had cried out the command. Because the five Trolls gathered together, and jumped right into a song-and-dance routine.

“Every little thing I do Never seems enough for you You don't want to lose it again But I'm not like them Baby, when you finally Get to love somebody Guess what? It's gonna be me!”

“Ugh, what the heck is this supposed to be?!” Velvet asked angrily, getting no response aside from more singing. She was going to turn away and disregard whatever nonsense was going on, when she noticed something happening. She had to blink to make sure that she was actually seeing correctly, and sure enough it was right there, clear as day. It was a sort of light that was glowing around the five, similar to when Floyd’s talent had been sucked out, and it was sparkling and thrumming with energy as the routine continued. The lights were all a different color that coordinated to each Troll – a vibrant green, an alluring purple, an electric yellow, a tame magenta, and a bright pink. It swirled and sparkled in a way that had Velvet in awe, so much that she was taken off guard when the energy shot right out at her in a surprisingly powerful burst.

She yelped and fell back, right on Veneer who’d just managed to have gotten back up on his feet from their earlier scuffle, and causing them both to fall down again in a tumble of skinny arms and legs. She was relieved to find that she’d managed to hold onto the diamond, but her heart dropped when she gave it a quick examination. Right there, stretching like an ugly scar on one side, was a large, and quite deep-looking crack. Velvet made a noise of surprise and ran her finger over it, hoping it was just a horrible illusion, that her twisted dream was not at risk of falling apart at the seams…

… but found that it was very much real.

Taking note of the surprise on her face, the Trolls cheered, feeling the entirely opposite way of their rival.

“Oh! It’s working!” Poppy cried.

“Thank goodness,” Floyd mumbled. He knew exactly what it was like to be trapped inside that diamond, and it was not good.

“Darn right it is!” John Dory exclaimed, absolutely hyped. “Now we just gotta keep workin’ it till that diamond breaks!”

“I hear that,” both Clay and Spruce agreed at the same time.

Velvet meanwhile had recovered from the shock, and was now narrowing her eyes menacingly. “So that’s the way they wanna play,” she muttered, and in a fury she hauled Veneer up by the arm. “Get up already!” she growled. “Looks like we got ourselves a little Band Battle.”

“A Band Battle?” Veneer echoed, “But I didn’t even get a chance to finish touching up!” he whimpered, feeling self-conscious for his lack of vanity.

“Ergh, there’s no time!” Velvet grumbled, shoving a microphone at him and grabbing one for herself. Her gaze locked in on the quintet who’d thought they had everything in the bag with their little rainbow-colored magic trick.

They’ll see that they’re wrong!

The two doll-like siblings began to get it on with their own number, their voices still riding off of Floyd’s talent that still lingered in their system.

“Sweet dreams are made of this Who am I to disagree I travel the world and the seven seas Everybody's looking for something…!”

The production was very flashy, very over-the-top in both the song and dance department. Some of the moves were a bit absurd, given their very thin, limby build, but the siblings still went for it. They were not going to be upstaged by Trolls, not if they could help it. Velvet figured that if the Trolls had some kind of supernatural force that let their combined voices become strong and powerful, then what did it hurt to try it for themselves and see if she and her brother had it too? And it turned out her theory wasn’t wrong. She could feel something surge through her and Veneer, but it wasn’t the same colorful, friendly type of thing that had encompassed the Trolls. This was a dark kind, not only in the dull black and enchanting green schematic, but also with the wickedness that came with it. It was the way poison would look, if poison could be depicted in an abstract form. The pair of them grinned as their song blasted the Trolls back in a replica of what had happened to them moments earlier, only this time, the tables had been turned.

But the Trolls were as steadfast as they were musical.

“Don’t give up!” Poppy ever optimistically urged them. “We can do it!”

The group sang again, determined to prove it.

“It's hard to say I'm sorry It's hard to make the things I did undone A lesson I've learned too well for sure So don't hang up the phone now I'm trying to figure out just what to do I'm going crazy without you…

You're all I ever wanted You're all I ever needed, yeah So tell me what to do now When I want you back!”

And Velvet and Veneer sang back, determined to put an end to it.

“Some of them want to use you Some of them want to get used by you Some of them want to abuse you Some of them want to be abused…!”

Back and forth the supercharged music went from both ends, one lively and positive, the other evil and negative. Both were vastly different, and both were putting up quite the challenge against each other. But it was when the Trolls pulled together on another one of their verses, putting every bit of heart and soul into it that things in the battle began to sway.

“It's tearin' up my heart when I'm with you But when we are apart, I feel it too And no matter what I do, I feel the pain With or without you!”

Resounding in a loud, clear crescendo, the brothers and Poppy succeeded in creating a massive sonic-like explosion. The diamond cracked significantly more, rooting out from its initial crack so that it formed smaller ones, like tree roots or branches.

The siblings noticed and gasped.

“Sis,” Veneer said, “I think they’re gonna – “

“NO, they WON’T,” Velvet quickly cut him off. She adjusted her golden top better, straightened the loose emerald-colored curls on her head, and gripped the microphone so tightly that her knuckles turned far whiter than they already were.

“Sweet dreams are made of this Who am I to disagree I travel the world and the seven seas Everybody's looking for something Sweet dreams are made of this Who am I to disagree I travel the world and the seven seas Everybody's looking for something!”

The counterattack, much to the Trolls’ distress, superseded their song. The soundwave was violent and overwhelming, wracking the Trolls body with horrible electrical pulsations that blew them backwards. While nobody suffered a physical injury, it seemed that their resolve was weakened.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up,” Floyd moaned, panting a little from exhaustion. It was taxing to have the doll-like siblings take away his talent, and its effects were proving themselves in his inability to keep up the Family Harmony for much longer.

“But we gotta sing the perfect Family Harmony!” John Dory exclaimed. “Remember? You yourself said it was gonna be the only thing that’s powerful enough to shatter a diamond. Don’t you wanna save him?”

“Of course I do!” the magenta Troll replied, feeling a pang of worry far greater than before for his younger brother.

“But Floyd’s right, dude,” Spruce pointed out. “We’re literally doing everything that we can, we’re giving everything our best shot!”

“What more can we do?” Clay asked, going off of the purple Troll.

Poppy thought about this too. What more CAN be done? No way did she want her boyfriend to go out like this, trapped, made to suffer, and at the clutches of two awful folks who were there to – in the words of their song – use and abuse him!

But then Poppy heard a voice, and for a second, she thought an angel had descended from the heavens, having heard her internal plea for help and there to give her advice. It was no angel, however, but to Poppy it was as close of a second as one could get. Because it was Branch's voice.

“Let me take you to a better plaaaace,

I’m gonna make you kiss the sky tonight

Yeah if you let me show the waaay,

I’m so excited, to see you excited!

Take you to a better place (yoo hoOooOo)

And baby you can love me all the way

We’re flying up to outer spaaace,

I’m so excited, to see you excited!”

From within the cracked diamond, his voice carried on strongly, and the brothers and Poppy recognized the tune that he was belting out so beautifully. It was BroZone's most popular hit single, the one that had risen them to fame and destroyed them, the song that had been a blessing and a curse all mashed together in a single glorious melody.

And it was just the inspiration that the Trolls needed.

Poppy was the first of the five to add her voice in the mix. While not an official BroZone member, she still knew the exact words of the song by heart, and sang them with much heart put into it. JD followed in with her...

.. then Spruce...

... then Clay...

... then Floyd...

... who joined with the others harmoniously so that they were creating a heart-stopping sound... But there was still a question on their minds - would it be that perfect Family Harmony?

Velvet and Veneer didn't wait to find out. As soon as Branch had started singing, they'd grabbed the mikes and retaliated harder than they'd done so far with their song.

“Sweet dreams are made of this Who am I to disagree I travel the world and the seven seas Everybody's looking for something…!”

The dark magic was strong and wild, and struck against the Trolls' harmonious one, entangling it in a mess of twisted energy. It was difficult to tell which of the two sides were winning with how stunningly chaotic things became, the rays fighting and wrestling, good against bad, in a heated struggle for dominance.

But the Trolls still kept on singing.

Poppy sang like she never did before in her life. John Dory gave it all his boldness, Spruce all his heart, Clay all his spunk, Floyd all his sincerity.

And the doll-like siblings were giving it their all too - all their spare stolen talent that is, which was rapidly being depleted.

The pair took no notice until Veneer's voice suddenly cracked and became pitchy at a key note in the song.

"Some of them want to use you, some of them want to be ab -ACK! UGHCK CAH!” He coughed suddenly over the unexpected interruption, and Velvet gave him an annoyed stare.

"What are you doing?!" She demanded harshly, but suddenly found her own voice faltering with a rough cough. In a panic, she tried again quickly, opening her mouth and willing her vocal chords to cooperate, but what came out was less than stellar.

"Some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abu-UGHCK ACCK HAK!"

With horror, she realized that they were losing. She and Veneer looked at each other, thinking the same as they honed their gaze on their most precious possession.

The diamond!

Both hands reached for it, and both hands drew back, the siblings gave a sharp cry for the sudden, electric ZAP that had erupted from Branch's enclosure. Velvet suddenly regretted not having inhaled his talent right when she had the opportunity. It was as though the Troll musical magic had created a forcefield, preventing her and her brother from even laying a finger on the diamond.

Then the most marvelous thing happened.

And that, folks, was the accomplishment of impossibly fabled perfect Family Harmony.

It was exactly as mystically glorious as the brothers remembered it, with all of the colors and light and absolutely in-sync sensation that coursed through their veins. The Family Harmony was something completely new to Poppy, but it was incredible to her. She’d felt the same light-and-airy way that she’d felt earlier in their adventure as she’d sang with Viva in Putt Putt Village, when the sisters had been over the moon for their reunion. Now that she, the brothers, and Branch had all banded together, there seemed to be no stopping the Trolls. Their magic pulsed and glowed, stronger than ever and - if one looked closely enough - it could be sworn that it formed the image of one great, big ethereal apparition of a Troll… One who, in the climactic moment of the band's union, blasted out a massive burst of pure, bright, rainbow-colored energy. The last thing Velvet and Veneer saw before they had to shut their eyes from the scorching light was the diamond, rippling and snapping, and then making the telltale CRRRRRAAAACKK! that indicated that it had broken completely.

Branch, also blinded by the light, had hardly realized what had happened, barely getting a sense of where he was, at least until he felt himself surrounded by Poppy and his brothers.

“WE DID IT!” Poppy cheered, squeezing Branch in a tight hug. “WE DID IT! WE DID IT! Oh, Branch, I’m so glad you’re okay!!”

“Oh, Poppy!” he cried in relief, holding her just as tightly and never wanting to let go. He’d been fearful that he could never have her in his arms again, but that fear could now rest at ease.

His older brothers were just as pumped as the Pop Queen. “WOO-YEAH!” John Dory shouted. “She’s right – we did it, we owned it, we brought the house down! Or at least that evil diamond… WOOOO!” He made his rounds with the brothers, chest-bumping with Spruce, double-high fiving with Clay, and lovably noogy-ing Floyd.

“No…” Velvet whimpered in the meantime. “No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!” Her hands shook as she grabbed the cracked pieces of the diamond that had scattered all around them on the ground, and uselessly trying to piece them together.

Veneer looked mortified for what had happened too, and helplessly scurried to pick up as many pieces of the diamond that he could. “M-maybe we can fix it?” he stammered to Velvet. “Like, if we got some glue or some tape or, um, or…”

Veneer rambled on about what he thought might work, but Velvet wasn’t listening. Her gaze was fixed on a larger piece of the diamond that had broken off, perfectly shaped as a dagger would be… and then flitted her gaze to the celebrating Trolls. One thing and one thing only crossed her mind then and there, and before she knew what she was doing, she’d grabbed the diamond piece, raised it above her head, and charged at the Trolls with a piercing cry.

“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!”

Much happened in those next few seconds, all at once. Poppy shrieked at the sight of the maniacal doll-like creature heading for them, and Branch shoved her behind him out of instinctiveness to keep his girlfriend safe. He expected to feel the blade pierce him, but was shocked to find that something had taken the blow full on instead, shielding him.

That something – or someone as it was – was John Dory, who’d jumped in the way with a cry of “NOOO!”

In a horrific scene, like something that someone would see only in a nightmare, the eldest BroZone brother fell to the ground, stabbed.

The brothers gasped in shock.

“JOHN DORY!!”

Branch was the first to rush to his side where he’d landed, sprawled and wincing. “John Dory…” he said, more quietly this time. He was stunned to see that his older brother would do something so stupid as to blatantly put himself in danger. But… he did it to save ME, Branch realized, seeing that maybe his older brother’s reasoning wasn’t all that stupid. It was honorable, if anything. He suddenly felt awful for every bad thought he’d had about him, for every time he’d itched to slap the smug grin off his face throughout the journey and every time he’d wanted him to leave again with his idiotic goggles and never come back into his life. Branch wished he could take it all back now, and not have to kneel there, witnessing his brother’s death.

Poppy was also shook, her brain trying to catch up with what had happened. Branch was going to save her life. Branch had been the one about to take the blade straight on. Her Branch, who would be lying there in pain, at least, until the turn of events that had resulted in the eldest BroZone brother choosing to step in instead.

Suddenly, John Dory began to shift, mumbling something that sounded a little bit like Branch’s name, but it sounded strained. He tried again, and this time managed to be coherent.

“Branch, I… I…”

“Wh-what?” Branch replied shakily, trying his best not to let his voice waver in the midst of it all. There was a lump the size of all the Troll kingdoms combined in his throat, but he refused to break down. For Floyd, though, it was no problem at all. He’d already let fresh tears fall down his face, and was clutching on hard to Spruce who was closest to him. The purple Troll was trying his best not to tremble too much, while Clay had gone ashen in the face with alarm.

John Dory spoke again. “I… I think… she needs… to work on her aim…”

Branch blinked at him. “Huh?”

Suddenly JD grinned at him, rolled over, and lifted his arm to show that the diamond blade sitting snugly in the crook between his arm and body.

Before any of the Trolls could react, Velvet beat them to it.

“WHAT?!” she cried. “Impossible!”

But it was not impossible, not with the way that JD slid the diamond piece out without so much as a scratch on his skin to show and smiled smugly. Then, something strange began to happen. The diamond piece glowed, hovering in the air.

“Uhhh, sis?” Veneer suddenly said, but Velvet already knew what he was referring to, when she saw the other shattered diamond pieces hovering up in the air, too, also glowing.

“What the fu – ?!“ Velvet started, but was cut from her obscenity when the diamond pieces, all floating around them, emitted a beaming blast that looked very similar to the Family Harmony that had shattered it in the first place, causing her and Veneer to scream.

“AAAAGHHHHH!”

When everything had settled, the Trolls saw the two were nowhere in sight.

“What the… where’d they go?” Clay asked out loud.

“Does this answer your question?!”

He was spooked by the sound of Velvet’s disembodied voice, but then he and the others noticed something that they hadn’t before. The diamond had reconstructed itself, and was sitting not too far from where they were. And, trapped inside of it and experiencing a taste of their own medicine, were Velvet and Veneer, shrunken down so they were Troll-sized and unable to escape.

Still, Veneer asked his sister, “How are we gonna get outta this scrap, sis?”

Velvet pounded the glass walls and screamed at her brother. “SHUT UP!!!”

The Trolls chuckled at the two, with John Dory snickering loudly. “Heh hehe, I guess they got theirs, huh? Fooled ‘em good with my act, too, right?”

Clay, surprisingly, was not in his typical jokey mood. He frowned at the teal Troll.

“John Dory, that was not funny!” Clay shouted. “And trust me, I know funny!”

“You scared me, bro,” Floyd blubbered, still trying to get his waterfall under control.

“You scared all of us,” Spruce admitted, letting out a breath of relief and dabbing at the beads of sweat that had perspired on his forehead.

“We thought you were a goner!” Poppy chimed in.

Only Branch didn’t say anything at first. He looked at John Dory incredulously, and then decided to speak.

“Why… did you do that?” he asked, getting awful images back of when their Grandmother had sacrificed her own life to save Branch from the Bergen Chef. Only, his Grandma hadn’t made it out of that one alive.

JD shrugged. “Hey, dude, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do for your fam than for yourself. Something I wish I knew a long time ago…”

He glanced at Spruce, Clay, and Floyd, who got exactly what he meant.

John Dory offered a tentative smile to Branch, which, he was glad to find that the blue-haired Troll returned.

Poppy’s gasp interrupted their moment. “Oh my gosh, you guys, look!”

She pointed down at their chests, to which they noticed for the first time that they were sporting brand-new hair-matching vests that fit them perfectly.

“Whoa…” Clay said, and then looked down to find that he too had a yellow vest that fit him much better. Spruce and Floyd’s were no different.

“Ah, no wonder I can breathe better!” Spruce said, recalling how tight his old vest from his teenage years had been squeezing him throughout the entire performance.

“But where did these come from?” Floyd wondered, his fingers grazing over the sleek material.

“It must’ve been from the Family Harmony,” Branch guessed, remembering how when Barb’s world tour had concluded with all the musical tribes singing together, the magical moment causing rainbow-colored outfits to transform upon Poppy and some of the other tribe leaders.

“Aw, maaan, mine’s ripped!” John Dory moaned, showing that part of it was sliced, due to the diamond blade. He looked at them hopefully. “Hey, you think we can sing the Family Harmony again and get it fixed?”

Branch gave his brother a look like “Really?”, but it was Poppy who actually responded. “Hmm… you know, I’ve got a couple of fashion friends who could probably sow that up once we get back to Pop Village,” she said, thinking about Satin and Chenille. “Well, um, that is… if you wanna go back?”

She scanned the brothers’ faces, who seemed to be a little doubtful at her suggestion.

“Back to Pop Village?” Spruce asked.

“We haven’t been there in years…” Clay mumbled. It wasn’t even in the same place, with how they’d all learned about the relocation into the forest after King Peppy’s evacuation on that one Trollstice.

But it was a homecoming long in the making, and one that Branch - who stood silently in between Poppy and Floyd with bated breath – was hoping that they’d go for.

Luckily, his brothers’ thoughts were right on the same track.

“Sure, we’ll go!” John Dory said, speaking up for the band. “But only on one condition…”

“What is it?” Floyd asked curiously.

JD grinned slyly at his magenta-haired brother. “That none of us ever see another diamond again!”

And everybody laughed, sharing the same exact sentiments.

__________________________________________

A/N: Ngl, I was a little afraid to tackle the climax of the movie, and even writing it now I’m not fully confident 😅 For my version of it, I wrote it according to my oneshot “The Trade” (ch 7) in which Branch gives himself up to Velvet and Veneer to switch places with Floyd. Velvet to me comes off as the more controlling of the two siblings, so that’s why she is the one more adamant about the diamond and the singing powers. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This is one of the songs listed for the TBT soundtrack, and I think it could work as a Velvet and Veneer song. I also think in the battle, we’ll get not only one song from BroZone, but maybe a whole boyband hits mashup (kinda like how Trolls World Tour did the Many Hits mashup!) Not sure of the new song “Take You To A Better Place” is something BroZone themselves is going to be singing (or if it is going to be used for something else) but I included it as their No.1 hit song, since it is an original and it also sounds like the song playing at the beginning of Trailer 2 when BroZone was coming onstage.

I’ve thought for a while what the climax of the movie may be like, and the thing that came to mind (for me at least) was the ending of MLP Equestria Girls Rainbow Rocks. In the finale Battle of the Bands, the musical powers “fight” against each other, with the Sirens winning at first and then the Ponies prevailing with their combined song-powered magical light-being (in this case, a unicorn) blasting the magic diamonds that the Sirens had.

youtube

An episode from a Scooby-Doo show did sort of the same thing with a band battle sequence (Mystery Incorporated episode 44 “Dance of the Undead” in case you're curious which specific one)

youtube

I’m sure if the movie goes this route, it will be much cooler - it’s a little challenging to put on paper what may look awesome onscreen, but I did my best in that respect, and also in trying to include the ideas of my requesters :3

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #brozone #branch trolls #poppy trolls #broppy #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #velvet and veneer #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball writes #Youtube

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cripple-punk-dad · 8 months

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I hate abled people so fucking much. I barely leave my house just to avoid them anymore. I stopped grocery shopping in person because i keep getting harassed by employees and customers. I hate being constantly touched, i hate people taking pictures of me and my service dog, i hate being questioned constantly. Why cant they leave us alone?

I'm so sorry anon this ask got buried in my inbox but,

I wholeheartedly agree with you. Obviously I'm not talking about the people in my life who are able-bodied that care about me and aren't fucking bizarre about my wheelchair, but I do have so much fucking anxiety about going out in public simply because I'm afraid of someone deciding that I don't get to live my life that day. I've been harassed on public transportation, in grocery stores, in my fucking college classrooms, on campus. Literally anywhere in public I've been in has generated harassment (physical and verbal) against me on the basis of my wheelchair. The filthy looks I've gotten on the bus simply because I exist are fucking ridiculous.

And yet we persist. We still exist despite most able-bodied people being determined to ignore us and make life as inaccessible as possible simply by not thinking about us. That's how insidious ableism is in our society. People don't give enough of a shit to even think about us. And if they do, it's full of pity, or anger. Pity because we must not be able to have a fulfilling life, and anger because we don't contribute anything to society just by existing.

Pretty much everyone in my life has said something along the lines of "before I knew you I never realized how inaccessible everything is". Which fucking pisses me off to no fucking end. Like yeah, no shit. I'm glad that I got to be that eye-opening experience for you but what are you gonna do about it? Nothing? Ok cool. Don't get pissed when I complain about this set of stairs for the 800th time then.

That's why I stopped giving a shit about fashion. People are gonna stare and point at me anyways so I'm gonna wear my battle vest every day with the shittiest most falling apart pair of pants I own because just like everyone else on this goddamn planet I deserve to feel comfortable and happy in my own skin. Fuck anybody who says different.

Anyways, I have been having a lot of feelings lately. Thank you for the ask, anon, your rage is justified and deserves to be heard.

Peace and love on planet punk rock, unless you're a nazi or a cop!

#cripple punk #cpunk #disability #disabled community #social justice #punk culture

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nonbinaryaubrey · 1 year

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pretty muuch everyone in the cast has some minor inconsistencies between their artbook cover artwork, ingame art work, and sprites. (this is INCREDIBLY nitpicky i do not care thaat much.. but still. wanna point it out. also i am DEFINITELY missing things i am not going too in depth here i am soo eepy)

some small examples:

sunny:

in sunny's official artwork, and all of his in game artwork, his vest is completely black, the only time this isnt consistent is in his actual pixel sprite

Omori:

he has a preeetty simple design? so his never gets too inconsistent. but at times his sock length are changed.

(socks higher up)

(socks lower than the knees)

Kel:

Obviously, DW!Kels shirt changes constantly between artworks. cant even be annoyed at this one that shirt looks like agony to draw, altho his sprite loses the more pastel coloration.. altho i think this is just kind of a consistent thing with the dw sprites, so i wont point it out much with them.

RW Kel doesnt have.. anything suuuper noticeable ?as far as i can tell. but his sprite and actual artwork definitely have.. inconsistencies (skin tone, along with the stripe on his pants)

Aubrey:

DW Aubrey doesnt have anything suuper inconsistent i believe? so i wont bring her up. and we have already talked about RW Aubrey. her outfit is. WILLDLY inconsistent between artworks, even in the game itself. (im NOT getting into other official artworks here but . her shoes too i believe tend to not stick too one design)

Hero:

for DW Hero, just inconsistencies with the stripe thickness, the collar part of his pajamas, and.. whatever the part near the hands are called being either solid white, solid blue, or striped

for RW Hero.. oh boy. His shirt collar

Official artwork (and tag photos) it looks like this ^

in his talk sprite, its still a vneck but with a white stripe

when he saves you from drowning, it looks like this

even his pixel sprites have inconsistencies between eachother

(normal)

(hospital)

good fucking lord man .!!!

Mari:

not too much with her actually!! main thing is. inconsistencies with her having shoes or not. (if u want a bit in non-in game comparisons, some official art has her dw self wearing socks when in game i dont think shes ever shown wearing them?)

Basil:

and to end it all off, lets move onto Basil. !!!

(going to point this out first, in a LOT of both RW in DW Basil's actual artwork, he has 2 little tufts of hair at the top of his head, but in both his talk sprites and overworld sprites, its missing)

for DW Basil there is.. 2 things i think?

1: the flower crown. it varies.. a LOT between artwork. kind of obvious.

aaand. 2. his shirt . in most artwork ^ like shown above, it has a rounded tshirt neck. but in one specific artwork, it shows it being a collared shirt with a button

for RW Basil.. i dont think theres much?

kiiind of the same issue as sunny? tho less obvious ig. his shirt is shown as dark green in the official artwork, but as a muuch lighter green in the sprite.

also in his battle sprite, he loses that... little part between the vest and the collar of his shirt? idk what to call it.

i beliiieeeve thats.. it for them all? i think i am missing things apologies .but i dont feel like looking thru the wiki anymore . and i have no space left for imgs pretty much

#sorry for weird format for some images. it was because image limit #omori #<- I GET TO MAINTAG IT THIS TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE OUT #aubrey.txt #omori spoilers

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hereforanepilogue · 1 year

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everything that i say and do (in your eyes is always wrong)

read on ao3

After Vecna, Eddie tried to make himself…not different, but more palatable. It wasn’t even hard - the doctors had shaved his head while he was out, and all his clothes had sunk into the Upside Down with the trailer.

He wasn’t normal - he never would be - but if he tried to quiet down? Wore plainer clothes, and played his music quieter in the van, and didn’t go back to playing with the band (as if their parents would have let him up the driveway, as if he had a guitar to play)? It wasn’t hard.

It made it easier on Wayne, on the kids. On Steve.

And wasn’t that a surprise? He hadn’t expected to be left in the dirt, after Vecna, if he survived. He just expected the slow withdrawal, as the kids aged out of hanging out with a high school dropout, and as the older group went off to college. But they clung, and people weren’t kind to them, and Eddie being a little less made that a little easier.

Then Steve kissed him, and told him he wanted more, and that one day they would get out of there together. If only Eddie could hold out a little while longer. He watched Robin and Wheeler the Elder go off to college, and the little sheepies got busy with their own campaigns in the secret, under-the-table Hellfire, but Eddie had Wayne and Steve.

Eddie almost forgot why he started acting like he did in the first place.

“You know,” Wayne told him one day - they were even more like ships in the night now, with Wayne still working nights from the new trailer and Eddie shacked up with Steve half the time - “I don’t know what happened in March, but you ain’t been this quiet since you were about this high.” He’d held his hand up in front of his ribs.

Eddie had been twelve when he moved in with Wayne, and he guessed he must look closer to that kid now than he had in years. So he started trying to fix it. He hunted in earnest for a new leather jacket, and a new denim jacket so he could cannibalize his bloodstained old vest, and band shirts to replace his old ones. It was thrilling, honestly, after he stopped mourning for what he’d lost.

Still, the transformation was a slow one. He still got glares when he showed his face around town, and even when he was with Steve [his knight, his ever-present guardian] they couldn’t be affectionate. And he understood that, obviously. He was always being watched, they had to be extra careful, and he knows it would be worse for Steve, who’s always been golden. A freak can get away with a certain level of freakiness, even when he’s playing at normal.

It comes to a head almost a year after the boathouse.

~~~

“When are we getting out of here?” Eddie moans, draped over the couch. His hair is long enough to tickle the base of his neck annoyingly. Steve is in the other room, cooking - he never liked to use the trailer if they could avoid it. He didn’t want to get in Wayne’s space.

“Soon, man. When the kids graduate, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I mean -”

“I just. I don’t know how much longer I can do this, you know?” Steve walks into the living room, glancing at the hook in the foyer where Eddie’s new and improved battle vest was hanging. Some of the patches still had blood stains on them.

“You could make it a little easier for them, I guess.”

“What?” Eddie is suddenly, painfully aware of the awkwardness of his pose, his arms twisted to press his hands into the crevice at the back of the couch, feet stuck between the cushions, head hanging over the edge. But he’s frozen.

“I just -” Steve sighs and scrubs his hand down his face, then rests it on his hip. He leans into the doorframe, in a move that Eddie knows is one of his worst plays at being casual. “You’re - you know I - you’re getting weird again, and people are still freaked out by everything that happened.”

“I’m getting weird again?”

“That came out wrong, you know -”

“I’ve always been weird, Steve, what are you talking about?”

“I mean you’re showing it now! I know you want to dress how you want to dress, but it just - maybe it’s not time yet.”

“Should I cut my hair again too?” Eddie scrambles to sit up, and ends up having to slither off of the couch on his belly. He just stands up instead.

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt, you could grow it out later?” Steve protests. Something is starting to burn in the kitchen, but neither of them move.

“It’s not -” Eddie takes a breath. This is why he never tried hard to talk to people who didn’t come to him, he thinks. He’s never had to explain this before. “I’m not just dressing like this because I like it. I mean I am, but it’s not…it’s not just that.”

“What do you mean, it’s not just because you like it? That doesn’t make any sense. And I’m not saying don’t dress like you want at - at my place, and at home and stuff. Just maybe not when you’re -”

“What, in public? Around the good, God-fearing public of Hawkins who were just out for my blood a year ago? I’m not like you, Steve, that doesn’t work for me.”

And Eddie has never been good at thinking fast, when it comes to serious things. He’s snappy, sure, he’s never not had a comeback to a bully, or to his friends’ ribbing, but he could never figure out how he felt, and he’s no better at it now. He’s just empty. Faramir on the way to Osgiliath, knowingly doomed.

But he knows he isn’t that, either, because he’s never been destined to win. And Steve still hasn’t said anything.

“Is that it? You - what - you’re just gonna bait them until they kill you?”

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Eddie says.

“We can’t leave yet, Eddie.”

“I can’t stay here,” he can feel his brain melting into a stuck record, and he doesn’t know what will happen if he tries to move but he has to try, right? “I want to leave, I don’t want to be here.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes.” He feels possessed. “I will say no more yet.”

And he leaves, and Steve doesn’t stop him. He has the forethought to grab his jacket, at least, and when he gets to his car it occurs to him that he left a stack of tapes in Steve’s room last night, but Steve didn’t follow him and he can’t go back, so he pushes them out of his mind and drives away.

One of them was his new copy of The Last in Line and he thinks about having to replace his favorite album twice in one year, and then he’s home and he doesn’t know how he got there.

“Wayne?” he says as he walks into the trailer. Whines, really, his voice has gone all weak, but Wayne hears it (he always does) and sits up on the couch. It’s early for him to be up, earlier than they would usually eat their breakfast/dinner, but Eddie had planned to bring leftover’s from Steve’s.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“I - remember when you talked to Ray about transfers?”

“C’mere,” Wayne says, and Eddie lets himself be pulled into Wayne’s space like a magnet. He sits next to him, close enough to feel his body heat and get overwhelmed by the scent of oil and metal that follows him home from the plant. Wayne rests his hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades, and he’s twelve again.

“It’d be nice not to have to wash paint off the walls every weekend, right?” Eddie says. He can feel the pause where he might have laughed, if he could’ve landed the tone he wanted.

“What happened?” Wayne says. It’s not the “let’s go, grab your bag” that Eddie is secretly barely-not-hoping for, but Wayne has always known him better than anyone.

“I just can’t do this anymore,” Eddie says. Wayne opens his mouth, so Eddie reassures him. “Nothing happened. I mean, something - I just can’t keep acting like this. I’m not. I tried, I really did, but I can’t make it work.”

“Ah, kid,” Wayne says. It’s the voice Wayne had used when Eddie got sent home in the fourth grade for crouching on a desk and barking at a kid who made fun of him, when Eddie had gone to Wayne’s trailer instead of his parents’. He’d used it when Eddie showed up with his hair buzzed off the first time when he was seven, and he’d used it after the cop that dropped Eddie off after his dad’s last arrest had left, and he’d used it both times Eddie told him he’d flunked.

Eddie leans into it, lets his forehead drop on Wayne’s shoulder.

“I’ll - I’m not just running, okay? I just thought I could hold out, and I can’t. And I don’t think he’s ever gonna leave, you know?”

“S - Harrinton?” Eddie’s mouth twists at the correction, and Wayne taps on his back - once, one finger - when he tenses up. Eddie leans towards him, just a hair, then leans back.

“Yeah.”

“Did he say that?”

“I mean, I don’t really remember. He - he told me I’m weird again and that I should tone it down.” Wayne rubs his hand up and down Eddie’s back once, then stills again.

“Well, that’s bullshit there, kiddo. I’ve never met a person alive that wasn’t a bit weird, and anyone who says they ain’t is kidding themselves. How’s that song you like go again?”

“‘You’re no dif-’ It’s not the same, though.”

“Look, Ed.” Wayne sighs. “You were never good at hiding how you were different, and that ain’t a bad thing, but it means you’ve gotta find people who’ll stick to you anyway.”

“I know. It’s not his fault, though. That I’m hard to stick to.”

“You ain’t, though,” Wayne says. “You know this kind of thing ain’t easy, even if it’s just your time isn’t matched up to his.”

“I just don’t think he’s ever gonna leave, and I can’t - I can’t stay here. I can’t be like this anymore.”

“So do what you’ve gotta do, and tell them what it is and why. Give them a path to follow you down, if they’re ever ready.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath - he doesn’t know when it got so hard to breathe, but it’s starting to get better.

“Okay. I. I’ll call tomorrow?” He looks at Wayne’s hand, curled loosely over his uncle’s knee. It’s as close to Wayne’s face as he can get his eyes to go.

“Sounds good, Ed. I’ll start looking into a transfer - nothing permanent, if you change your mind, but I know you’re not like to bring it up if you’re not serious, so just get your end of things worked out and I’ll get mine.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m not easier.” Wayne is quiet for a moment.

“Don’t be sorry, kid. You being miserable isn’t easier.” He taps between Eddie’s shoulders again, then gets up. “I think it’s breakfast time, anyway. Eggs good?” Eddie nods, but Wayne is already on his way to the kitchen.

~~~

The next day he calls around - the guys in the band first, always. Then Steve, before he talks to Robin or Nancy or the kids. The conversations are all short, but he knows it’ll be a couple weeks before Ray can get Wayne set up at his cousin’s plant out of state, so there’s time.

“You know I l- care about you, Eds. Eddie.”

“I know. I don’t wanna not be with you, I just can’t keep living like this. And I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to leave.”

“I’m just not ready yet. When the kids graduate, I’ll think about it.”

“That’s the problem, Stevie.” Eddie feels - not numb, but distant. Like someone turned a key and his thoughts are flowing in order and he has the words for them, and he has to say them even when it feels like the worst thing he’s ever said. “You’re not even thinking about an after, and all I have is an after. The only thing I have waiting for me in Hawkins is hiding everything about myself until I suffocate.”

“I’m in Hawkins. And the kids,” Steve says. He would sound controlled to anyone else, but as always, Eddie knows his tells, and he’s breaking.

“I love you, but I can’t hide forever. And you might be able to, if you want to, but you shouldn’t have to either. We’re not going far - Wayne’s getting a job in Pittsburgh, I think. Right on the way to Robin’s, if you wanna visit.” Steve gulps, and Eddie gets the abrupt sense that Steve thinks he’s lying. “I - I mean that, really. I’m not gonna promise I’ll wait for you, not forever, but I’m not exactly gonna get over you, you know?”

“You love me?”

“I do, yeah,” Eddie says.

“But you’re leaving.”

“I’m gonna die here, Steve, even if I don’t get burned at the stake. It’s not - I’m not me, anymore, and I can’t keep pretending, and it’s not just how I dress or whatever. I know I’m not normal, but it’s not a choice any more than being a queer is, so I’ll get you my new number, and when - if - you’re ready, I’ll pick up.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

~~~

Two weeks later, the last Munsons in Hawkins pack up and leave.

read on ao3

#eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #ria planted this idea into my brain with a song a week and a half ago and ive been gnawing on it since then #like its me so obviously steve will figure out what he wants out of life and find it w eddie and robin there #and theyll all be okay #but not yet unforch #eddie munson is autistic #also i cant write eddie pov without him having a meltdown #thats my secret cap im always projecting #no beta we die like steve in s5 #gratuitous lotr references #my fic

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am-i-the-asshole-rotomblr · 9 days

Note

Ack, this has been eating me up inside so I want to know if I'm the asshole or not!

AITA for training my service pokémon to be potentially battle-ready in case of an emergency?

For context I'm a champion-ranked trainer in Paldea but I have a service pokemon that looks like it could battle (BUT IT DOESN'T!!!), I do however have an actual battle team that accompanies me.

Another note is my Service pokémon has a visible vest and bandana showing that it is a 'mon at work

I was in Galar visiting my family when a trainer approaches me, they look around 16 give-or-take. My service pokémon is out with me at the time (they are similar to Cyclizar, but bigger and stronger, Iykyk) helping me with carrying groceries as I couldn't carry them all due to having one hand avaliable at the time (my other hand is holding my cane).

We strike a conversation, which was normal. They ask me about my pokémon and I ask about theirs yada yada. They show me their partner pokémon (an excadrill), and then insist on a battle.

I obviously say no. Multiple times.

Anyways they get mad, keep insisting, and then their excadrill gets impatient or something and tries using Drill Run on my service pokémon.

Now here's where the AITA comes in.

My 'mon can fight back, I've ensured all of my pokémon can defend themselves because I don't want them getting injured when out and about with me (I study ecosystems a lot and wild pokémon are terrifying creatures). They use a move in retaliation and end up knocking the other pokémon out.

Cue this person getting upset n such. Screaming at me that my service 'mon is fake because it can battle and that I have to pay for damages blah blah blah. I don't think I'm in the wrong here! Their pokémon attacked first without warning and my pokémon did what it had to do to defend itself.

I did cover their pokémon's medical fee at the center, and then told em to fuck off and not to bother me and my pokémon anymore.

I just feel like an asshole about it so yeah, AITA rotumblr?

Also if you're wondering my groceries got ruined. >:(

#rotomblr #pokemon irl #rotomblr polls

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meiliarotten · 11 months

Text

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time

Day 13: Leather Polish (Boot Worship)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: Medic’s boots. That’s all.

Tags: Boot worship, boot licking, dom/sub, praise

Word Count: 1.9k

The Masterlist

You had always found that distinct footwear was alluring to you. Other aspects of attire also helped, of course, but for some reason the shoes were always your first point of focus. A nice pair of dress shoes could be tempting to you, but above all, you were most passionate about boots. A pair of nice boots could lure you in and fluster you beyond all reason. However, this had always been something you kept to yourself.

But now, you were in a relationship with Medic. A man whose job had him almost always clad in a uniform that involved a most striking pair of black leather boots. How could you possibly resist?

It was late, and the other mercenaries had long since settled down for the night or gone out drinking in celebration of a victorious battle. In Medic’s private quarters, you had already stripped him of his coat and vest, palming at his chest. His hands traveled down your body. You were already stripped down to your underwear, much more exposed than he was. Medic was about to kick off his boots when, in a moment of sudden bravery, you spoke up.

“Wait!” You said, your nerves making you speak a bit louder than you meant to. Medic paused, looking down at you with some concern.

“Is something wrong, liebling?” He asked. Your hesitation returned, and you nervously clasped your hands together as you tried to find your words again.

“This might sound a bit weird, but,” you trailed off, glancing almost involuntarily down at the boots. “Could you… keep the boots on?”

Medic followed your gaze, soon realizing what you wanted. He grinned wickedly, already planning for how to make the most out of your apparent affinity.

“Ah, I understand.” His knowing look made you go red. Still, you were glad that he seemed to like the idea. Asking really was the hardest part, and you had gotten it over with. Now, for the fun part.

You were taken firmly by the chin. Medic easily fell into the role of an assertive dom. You, likewise, were more than willing to allow him to manipulate your body and take whatever he wanted from you.

“I’ll keep them on, but only if you’re nice and obedient for me. For now though, I think I’ll give you a look at them up close ,” Medic said, taking you by the hair and pulling slightly before pushing your head down. You kneeled down to the ground in front of him. You couldn’t hide the way your eyes lit up as you were able to examine the fine leather up close.

“You really do like them, don’t you?” Medic obviously noted the spark of lust in your gaze. “If only I had known this earlier. I would have had so much fun finding new ways to make you squirm.”

You managed to tear your gaze away from the footwear, looking back up at Medic. Wide eyed, like an eager puppy awaiting a command, you asked him, “What would you like me to do?”

He paused for a moment, looking you over as he pondered his next command. An idea finally came to him. He took a moment to thank his luck that he had happened to polish his boots just earlier that day. They were nice and clean for you to admire to the fullest. It also meant that his next order wouldn’t be too challenging for you to carry out.

“I take good care of these, you know,” Medic tapped the toe of one of his boots on the floor to draw your attention. “I take great pains to keep them in near perfect condition. In fact, they were cleaned earlier today. However, perhaps you could get them even cleaner, meine liebe?”

Medic took a few steps back to sit on the bed, beckoning you forward as he did so. You didn’t need any further implications. You got the message immediately, and you were more than eager to obey. Crawling forward, you bent your head down and began to lick, savoring the earthy taste and scent of fine leather.

“Gott im Himmel, you’re practically drooling,” Medic observed you with a short laugh, even as his pants became uncomfortably tight at the sight of you lapping eagerly before him. You continued to concentrate whole heartedly on your task, running your tongue along the length of the boot, even kissing it every so often until Medic pulled away, offering you the opposite boot. Of course, you wasted no time repeating the process to the tune of Medic’s praises.

“You look ravishing like that, kneeling before me, so ready to serve,” he said, reaching down at one point to stroke your hair like a prized pet.

While you would have been content to stay on your knees and polish those boots for hours, your own arousal was becoming unbearable. Unconsciously, you dipped a hand into your underwear, hoping to sate it.

“Nein, none of that!” The sharp command startled you, and you immediately removed your hand.

“I’m sorry sir,” you whimpered, ceasing your actions for just a moment in order to apologize. You looked up at Medic hesitantly to see him deep in thought once again, no doubt thinking up some kind of punishment. Or so you thought. To your surprise, his gaze softened, and he smiled down at you mercifully.

“It’s alright, liebchen. I never said you couldn’t pleasure yourself. I just didn’t specify exactly how you were allowed to do so,” he explained. You watched, tilting your head in confusion as he shifted forward to sit right at the edge of the bed, a hand reaching out to grip your hair again. “Sit up on your knees and spread your legs.”

You obeyed immediately, although you were still a bit bemused. Medic’s methods soon became clear when he positioned one of his boots underneath you, angling it so that the toe box pointed upwards. The instep was right below your crotch. It was a clear invitation.

“No hands, and don’t take your undergarments off just yet,” Medic said, chuckling as you began to realize exactly what he wanted you to do. “Go on and prove how much you love these boots of mine.”

You nodded, grasping his leg and beginning to grind your hips down. You moaned at the feeling of the leather against you, even if you were only feeling it through your soaked underwear.

“Gutes mädchen. Doesn’t that feel divine?” Medic asked, watching as your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Yes sir,” you moaned, outright humping the boot in earnest now. You slid yourself over the leather from the toe to the instep, back and forth in a rhythm that sent jolts of ecstasy through you. It wasn’t enough though, certainly not enough to push you over the edge, and Medic knew this. He watched with a sly grin as you began to ride the boot more desperately, clutching at his leg for some kind of leverage.

“Medic-” you quickly corrected yourself. “Sir! Please!”

“Please what, liebling? Use your words.”

You looked up with those wide, pleading eyes once again, this time far more clouded with lust and need. “Please fuck me!”

Medic smirked down at you, and nodded. He was actually quite eager to relieve the arousal building in his own core as well. However, he hid his desire well, keeping his voice steady as he continued to issue commands.

“Up here, meine liebe. Kneel on the bed, on your hands and knees,” he said, patting the mattress.

“Yes sir!” You said, unable to hide the enthusiasm in your voice. You were on the bed and in position as quickly as possible, only pausing to finally strip your underwear off.

Medic felt himself twitch with need at the sight of you. Such an obedient subject, so ready to take him as long as he kept his boots on, and he had every intent of fulfilling that promise. He moved behind you, removing his dress shirt and lowering his pants just enough to free his straining erection.

You gasped softly when you felt his cock press against your entrance. You looked back at him and met his gaze, which had softened for just a moment. With a smile and a nod, you assured him that he could go on. That was all the permission he needed to thrust himself in to the hilt. It was an easy endeavor, with how wet you had become.

Your head dropped to the mattress as he thrust into you. In such a position, it was easy enough to look back between your own legs. You were able to admire those boots this way, still shiny as could be, partially due to your earlier activities, digging into the mattress for purchase as Medic snapped his hips forward. It was all you could have ever wanted.

“Enjoying the view, my dear,” Medic asked, his hot breath tickling your neck as he draped himself over you.

“Yeah,” was all you managed to get out between shuddering moans. He held onto your hips, tightening his grip in warning. You quickly corrected yourself. “Yes sir!”

“Mein Gott, you’re so wet, just from grinding yourself on my boots for so long,” Medic said, laughing wickedly between desperate groans in a way you found incredibly erotic, especially as they mixed with your own sounds. “Now that I know about this little interest of yours, perhaps I’ll have to buy some special pairs just for you.”

A pleasant shudder went up your spine at the thought of that. Medic sporting boots purchased for the specific purpose of letting you lick and rut desperately against them.

“I would like that. sir,” you moaned.

“Yes, I thought you would. Perhaps we can find some with more intricate details? I’m sure that the ridges and bumps of engraved leather would offer some very interesting sensations for you,” Medic’s voice broke slightly at the end, signaling a slight loss of composure as the pleasure began to build. He moaned deeply and began to thrust faster, clearly getting close to finishing.

“Yes! Yes sir, please!” You cried, your mind racing with all the new possibilities. Medic reached around your waist to rub your clit, bringing you as close to the edge as he was with a few circular motions.

With a sharp groan, Medic thrust his hips forward one final time. He moaned into your ear as his orgasm overtook him. A few more strokes of your clit had you following soon after, nearly collapsing onto the mattress with a shrill cry.

Medic’s weight fell upon you, essentially pinning you to the mattress below him. Luckily, you didn’t mind too much. In fact, it was comforting in a way. It was also the perfect position for Medic to whisper into your ear.

“We are going to have so much fun with this, liebchen. I’m going to make you feel so good,” the soft whispers wormed their way into your mind and you clung onto every word. “The sight of you desperately rutting against my boots. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of that. I’m going to have so much fun finding new ways to make you beg and moan just for me next time.”

You listened intently, even as your eyes began to drift shut. You remained below him, smiling as you were lulled to sleep with detailed promises of what was to come. Unconsciousness overtook you, as did the most tantalizing sense of anticipation for the ‘next time’ that had been promised.

#tf2 x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #merc x reader #minors dni #smut #tf2 smut #medic x reader #medic tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 medic #medic team fortress 2 #team fortress medic #team fortress two #cross posted on ao3

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ao3soidade · 2 years

Text

I’m definitely going to start writing some of the prompts y’all have sent me, but I had to get this out first. Canon-compliant Steddie, so... proceed with caution.

Eddie hadn’t had a chance to talk to Steve alone since they got back from the Upside Down. Not that he was looking for a chance to talk to him alone. He wasn’t. Yeah, it had been a pleasant surprise to find out Steve Harrington was actually a good guy, and maybe a slightly less pleasant one to realize that he was actually attracted to him, but that didn’t mean he had a crush or something.

Having a crush on Steve Harrington would be a very bad idea.

It didn’t matter if he had a lesbian best friend (Eddie wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He just overheard. It wasn’t like he hadn’t suspected it before that, and she had clearly clocked him a mile away, so it was only fair.) No matter how accepting he was of Robin–shit, maybe he’d even be accepting of Eddie, if he knew–Steve was obviously, painfully straight.

Eddie wasn’t even expecting to talk to Steve alone again, not really. Even if he kind of wanted to. It was probably better if he didn’t. That would make it easier to convince himself that he didn’t have a crush.

After they got supplies at the War Zone, when they were safely secluded and everyone was getting to work on their plan, Eddie went into the empty Winnebago to clean up a bit. He wished he could take a shower, but anything helped when he was covered in alien slime and polluted lake water. So he washed his face, scrubbed as much dirt as he could off of his skin, even found some mouthwash in the medicine cabinet. And when he came out of the bathroom, Steve was waiting for him.

Eddie’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He closed his mouth, swallowed.

Steve smiled, and Eddie’s stomach did a flip. God damn it. He had a fucking crush.

“Hey,” Steve said. “I just wanted to, uh, make sure you got your vest back.” He held the vest out to Eddie.

For one insane moment, Eddie thought about telling him to keep it. Keep it? Really? A metalhead didn’t give away his battle vest, especially not to someone he barely knew. Eddie had spent years collecting all those pins and patches, saving up to get them at concerts, sewing them on by hand. He might as well ask the guy for his hand in marriage.

“Thanks,” Eddie said instead, taking the vest from Steve.

“So, how are you holding up?”

Eddie laughed. “Me? You’re the one who almost died, dude.”

Steve shrugged. “Not the first time.”

“That doesn’t make it better. Probably worse, actually.”

Steve shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” His smile looked a little forced now. Great. Eddie must be annoying him. He never did know when to keep his mouth shut.

“Yeah.” Eddie punched Steve’s arm lightly. “I know you will. You’re the big hero. You’re gonna kick the bad guy’s ass, save the town. Get the girl,” he added.

Steve looked down. “It’s not like that.”

Eddie’s heart sank. This could be their last conversation, and Eddie was fucking it up. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said quickly. “You’re right. I was hung up on Nancy for way too long. But we’re not right for each other. I– I get that now.”

“What do you mean? The way you look at each other,” Eddie said. “The way she jumped into the lake after you.”

“So did Robin.” Steve looked Eddie in the eye. Eddie couldn’t read his expression. “So did you.”

Eddie put his hands up. “Peer pressure, man. Everybody was doing it.” He made himself laugh, like it was no big deal, when he knew he must have been looking at Steve pretty much the same way Nancy had been.

“You didn’t accuse me and Robin of being in love.”

“Well, no. You’re obviously not.”

“I wish Dustin could see that. He’s constantly trying to get us together.”

Eddie laughed, for real this time. “Isn’t that kid supposed to be smart? Really barking up the wrong tree there.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling a little before he stopped, looking curiously at Eddie. “Wait. What do you mean by that?”

“Robin’s– She’s not really– It just doesn’t seem like you’re her type.” He raised his eyebrows at Steve.

Steve frowned. “What do you–” Steve paused. He must know what Eddie meant by that, now. “Where did you hear that?” His voice was flat, cold.

“I heard you two talking about a girl named Vickie? But I kind of figured, before that. I just didn’t know for sure.”

“How?” Steve spoke quietly. It was the first time, in all of this, that Eddie had heard him actually sound scared. It made Eddie’s heart ache, to hear the fear in his voice, to see the cracks in that tough exterior. And it made Eddie’s heart ache to hear how much Steve cared about his friend, how much he wanted to protect her secret.

“I don’t know.” Eddie scrambled for an answer that wasn’t the truth, but also wouldn’t make Steve worry.

“You just figured? What do you mean? Did she do something? Did I do something?”

“No,” Eddie said quickly. “Nothing. I—” Fuck it. What was Steve going to do, beat him up? Haul him back to town and let the angry mob at him? No. Because Steve Harrington was a genuinely nice guy, a fact that was really fucking with Eddie’s head right now. “It’s just like gay intuition or something. Ask Robin. She has it too. The first time she looked at me, I knew she had my number. She could tell.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “She could tell? That you’re…” he trailed off.

“Gay. Yeah.”

“Oh.” Steve’s expression was unreadable again.

Eddie took a step back, licking his lips nervously. He thought it would be fine, or maybe just hoped so. Maybe the stupid crush was clouding his judgment. Either way, it was probably best to get out of punching range.

Steve was silent for a moment. Eddie thought Steve must be running through all of their interactions again with this new context. The casual touches, the compliments, the–in retrospect–obvious flirting. Eddie was such an idiot. He moved further away.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. I just, uh– I don’t know.”

A look of realization crossed Steve’s face. “Dude, come on. I’m not gonna– Robin’s my best friend.”

“I know. But lots of guys are cool with it when it’s a girl. Two girls together is hot, right? A gay guy, that’s different.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head a little. “Yeah, it’s definitely different.”

What did he mean by that? Clearly he didn’t hate Eddie, didn’t seem disgusted by him, wasn’t rushing to get away from him. So what was the difference between how he felt about Robin being gay, and how he felt about Eddie being gay?

“How is it different?” Eddie shouldn’t ask. He probably didn’t want to know. But the words came out before he had the chance to stop them.

Steve stared at Eddie for a moment, brow furrowed and eyes searching. “I wish I’d listened to Dustin.”

“What?”

“He kept telling me I should meet you. That we would be friends. I didn’t believe him.”

Eddie shrugged, hands out. “Don’t worry about it, Steve. I felt the same way when he told me about you. Guess we were both wrong.”

Steve nodded. “But we can hang out. After the big fight. When all this is over.”

“I’m not sure if this is ever gonna be over for me, Steve.” He was beginning to doubt whether he would even be around for after.

“No. You’re right. It’s never over, not for any of us. That shit sticks with you.”

“So do murder charges.” Even if Eddie did make it through their plan alive, what did he really have waiting for him on the other side? Everyone thought he was a serial killer.

“No, I’m telling you, man. The government knows all about this Upside Down stuff. They always cover it up. They’re gonna come in and explain everything away, like they did with the mall. Everyone believes that fire story.”

“Steve.” Eddie looked at him sadly. “Did it ever occur to you that the easiest way to come up with a story everyone believes…” He paused. “Would be to use the story they already believe?”

“But–” Steve shook his head. “You’re innocent.”

“You think that’s ever stopped the government?”

“Jesus.” Steve sat on the couch, looking at his hands.

Eddie sat down next to him. “It’s okay,” he said. He put his arm up on the back of the couch, but kept it as far as he could from Steve’s shoulders. “You’re probably right. It’ll probably be fine.”

Steve looked intensely at Eddie. Their faces were inches apart, and Eddie’s heart was racing.

“You asked me earlier,” Steve said quietly. “Why it was different, with you and Robin. It’s actually, weirdly, exactly the same.” He looked away from Eddie, bit his lip. His eyes flicked briefly upward. “Because when Robin told me– At that time, I kind of had a thing for her.” Steve looked back at Eddie with a half smile and his eyebrows raised, expectant.

“I don’t–” Eddie pulled his arm toward himself, shrinking away from Steve.

Steve had a thing for Robin, and it was the same, somehow the same, with Eddie. But it couldn’t be the same. There was no way. Steve couldn’t have a thing for Eddie. He was straight, and in love with Nancy Wheeler, and wouldn’t have been caught dead with Eddie a week ago. How could it be the same?

Steve must have figured out that Eddie liked him. It wasn’t so different from the situation with Robin. One person had a crush that was rejected due to incompatible sexualities. Close enough.

Eddie’s first instinct was to deny it outright, but protesting too much might make it even more obvious. He decided to just play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re right,” Steve began. “If this doesn’t all work out, then this might be my only chance.”

“Your only chance for what?” Eddie barely got the words out before Steve’s lips were on his.

Eddie froze, for a second. This couldn’t be real. It didn’t make any sense. But, he reasoned, nothing about the events of the past few days made any sense. Why did this have to? He relaxed, parting his lips and feeling Steve’s tongue slide between them. He put a hand on Steve’s jaw, then wrapped it around to the back of his head, pulling him closer. Steve’s hand went to Eddie’s waist, and Eddie wanted to do the same, hovering briefly before he remembered the wounds. It was too bad, because he would have loved to get a hand under the vest– Eddie’s vest. Watching him run around in that vest had been driving Eddie crazy, and a part of him wanted to tear it off of him. Another part wanted to leave it on, to do unspeakable things to Steve while he was wearing it.

The hand on Eddie’s waist traveled to the edge of his t-shirt, toying with it tentatively before going underneath to touch Eddie’s skin. Eddie thought about stopping him, thought about how long it had been since he’d had a shower, how gross he probably was, but it was the end of the fucking world. Steve was gross, too, and Eddie thought it was hot as hell. Who could have guessed how good Steve Harrington looked covered in blood and grime?

Eddie pulled away to shrug out of his leather jacket. He had barely taken a breath while they were kissing, and he was panting a little.

“Need a second to catch your breath?” Steve smirked at Eddie. His breathing was even, seemingly unaffected.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Not all of us were on the swim team.”

“Captain of the swim team,” Steve corrected.

“I thought it was co-captain.”

“So you were listening.”

“You caught me.” Eddie smiled, then leaned forward to kiss Steve again.

It wasn’t long before Steve broke the kiss again, his eyes traveling up and down Eddie’s body.

“Co-captain needs a break now?” Eddie asked.

“No,” Steve said. “I can hold my breath for almost five minutes.”

“That,” Eddie said, tilting his head and widening his eyes. “Is very interesting.” Eddie had a lot of thoughts about that, but he tried not to dwell on them for too long. He was getting ahead of himself.

“Is it?” Steve asked, smiling. Eddie wondered if Steve knew what he was thinking. He also wondered if he should be embarrassed about that, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before Steve was pulling off Eddie’s shirt. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. It was more than okay. It was great, almost unbelievably so. It would be perfect if not for the circumstances, and if not for Steve’s injuries, which Eddie eyed warily. “Um, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t worry about me right now.” He ran his hands down Eddie’s chest, stopping at his belt. He raised an eyebrow. “Handcuffs?”

Eddie smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Steve?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, I think I would.” He pulled the end of Eddie’s belt out of the loops, and Eddie’s heart was beating so hard that he could hear it pounding in his head, couldn’t hear much else.

And then the pounding was outside his head, on the door of the Winnebago, and they sprang apart.

“What are you guys doing in there?” Dustin was yelling through the door. “Why is the door locked?”

“You locked the door?” Eddie whispered.

Steve gave Eddie a shrug and a half-smile, like who, me? Smug bastard. He planned this. Or at least part of it. Eddie wondered if Steve had guessed how far it would go. How far it would have gone, if not for Dustin banging on the door.

“Guys?” Dustin’s voice got louder. “Is everything okay in there?”

“It’s fine,” Steve yelled. “Can you give me a goddamn minute, please?”

“Hurry the hell up,” Dustin yelled back. “We’ve got shit to do!”

Steve shook his head. “That kid. I swear to god.” He looked at Eddie, who had fixed his belt and was now putting his shirt back on. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Eddie said. “I, um– That was nice.”

“Could have been nicer,” Steve said, gesturing toward the door. “Maybe it’s good he interrupted. I didn’t even take you out to dinner first.”

Eddie laughed. It was weird, thinking about going on an actual date with Steve Harrington. He couldn’t quite picture it.

“Now we have to get through this, so I can take you out to celebrate. Dinner, movie, the whole thing. Or whatever you want, if that doesn’t sound–”

“Dinner and a movie sounds good,” Eddie said. It did sound good. Even if he couldn’t picture it, he would have liked to. He wanted to see what that looked like.

Steve smiled. “Okay, then it’s a date.”

Eddie smiled back, nodding. “Okay.” He really, really would have liked to see that.

Later, when they were all dressed in probably-useless tactical gear, laden with makeshift weapons and lofty plans, Eddie promised Steve that he wouldn’t try to be a hero. He smiled, as genuinely as he could, but Steve didn’t look convinced. When he finally turned away, leaving Dustin and Eddie to their part of the plan, Eddie stopped him.

“Hey, Steve?” When Steve turned around, Eddie held his gaze as long as he could, drinking in the sight of his face for the last time. Eddie wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

You go with Dustin. Let me do the dangerous part. I’ve got nothing to lose. But he had Steve to lose, and that was the whole thing, wasn’t it? I love you. But that wasn’t quite right. He barely knew him, he couldn’t be that sure yet. I could have fallen in love with you. That was better. That was true. He was already partway there. I’m having second thoughts. I don’t know if I can do this. The plan, the plan. He could do that. That was the easy part. But Eddie had been cooking up his own plan, for a while now, and Steve had messed it up. Steve had given him something to look forward to, a reason to get through this. The date. Eddie knew it could never happen. There were dozens of reasons why it couldn’t happen. But he wanted it to.

I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it to our date. That was what Eddie wanted to say. That was what Eddie would say, if he had the nerve, if he weren’t such a coward. But maybe, if things went according to plan, Eddie’s plan, Steve could remember him as a hero.

Eddie had to say something. He’d hesitated too long. People would start to get suspicious.

“Make him pay.”

Steve looked confused. He held Eddie’s gaze for a moment, searching for something, but Eddie didn’t give anything away. A short nod and Steve was off, still hopeful, still determined. Still the hero.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #soidade #steddie fanfiction #this was supposed to be a short fun thing to post on tumblr but unfortunately it is neither short nor fun #unedited but if people like it perhaps I'll clean it up and post on ao3 #I didn’t realize tumblr didn’t keep my italics.#horrifying #I added them back in

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